A Change of Plans
by SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: Sam and Dean are drawn to a small town after a string of loosely connected suicides, but have yet to find any leads. Then Sam goes missing, and Dean is left to solve everything on his own before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

From the moment Sam first laid eyes on him, he couldn't imagine ever being with another person for the rest of his life, however long that might be. He was so perfect, beautiful in every imaginable way, and the thought of not being with him felt like pure torture. It didn't seem fair that Sam had gotten the chance to see this example of a perfect person, but that he would never be good enough to actually catch the interest of such a man.

Which is why Sam was so surprised when the man made his way across the bar, locking eyes with Sam the entire time. Sam was barely aware of the fact that he was holding his breath, waiting on the edge of his seat for the man to come closer. After what felt like hours had passed, Sam realized that the man was standing right in front of him.

Sam felt frozen to his seat, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the other man's. The other man didn't seem as affected as Sam, but he did offer a divine smile that charmingly showed off his perfectly straight and white teeth, and then he reached out one hand. "I would have to be a total moron to not try and introduce myself to a lovely creature such as yourself. I'm Milo."

Sam had to gulp a couple of times, and his throat still felt far too try. It felt like a major effort to pry his tongue away from where it was sticking to the roof of his mouth so that he could choke out a response to that. "Sam," he said breathlessly, while clumsily reaching up to accept the handshake with what he hoped wasn't too clammy of a hand. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt so enthralled by anyone, let alone someone he'd never even spoken to before. In the back of his mind, he could remember the only two other people he'd had crushes on, but those were nothing in comparison to the god-like man in front of him.

Milo's smile seemed to grow just a bit brighter at that. "I'd ask if we've ever met before, but I know that I wouldn't be able to forget a face like yours." He looked around for a moment, and as soon as he looked away, Sam felt like he was missing an essential piece of himself from not being able to look into those dazzling eyes. When Milo's gaze settled back on him, it felt like a huge relief. "You here with anyone else?"

Distantly, Sam could remember that he and Dean had rolled into town for the purposes of a hunt, and that they had important business going on. After a long couple of days that yielded no results, Dean had dragged them both to the bar, and then skipped off with some barely-legal girl ages ago. Sam had decided to sit around and have a couple more drinks before heading back to their cheap motel so that he wouldn't walk in on anything unsavory. Now he was so grateful that he had. "Just me," he said softly, like he was afraid speaking any louder would remind Milo that he could do a lot better than Sam.

At that quiet declaration, Milo's entire face seemed to light up, as though he'd just heard the best news possible. "That's really great for me, Sam. How about I show you somewhere nicer than the inside of this dingy old bar?"

Sam nodded, eager to do anything Milo asked of him. Since Milo was still holding Sam's hand, it was easy enough for him to tug Sam forward. Though the move through Sam off balance, and he ended up tumbling forward into the chest of the man who turned out to be just a bit taller than him. That was something rare. "Where will we go?" Sam couldn't help asking.

Milo threw a few bills down on the counter to pay for Sam's drink, and then pulled him outside. The cool night air felt remarkably refreshing, though Sam hadn't even realized just how hot and stuffy it had been inside of the bar. "I'm going to take us on an adventure," Milo said with a strange smirk. He reached up with his free hand to brush a lock of Sam's hair back behind his ear. "No one ever told me you would be so beautiful," he murmured. "Some people just have it all, I suppose. But I'm sure no one would mind if I were to enjoy my time with you before bringing you home."

Most of what Milo said seemed to slip in through one of Sam's ears, and out the other. He didn't really care, though, because just listening to Milo's enchanting voice, deep and appropriately rumbly, sent the good kind of shivers down Sam's spine. But that last part did somehow catch in Sam's mind, and he tilted his head curiously. "Home?" Sam wasn't even sure where home was. Well no, that wasn't true. Even though he'd had an unusual life so far, he did know where home was. Instead of being a place like it was for most, it was a person for him. Home would always be Dean. It's why he'd felt so strange and uncomfortable the entire time he was at school, away from his brother and without exchanging a single word with him in years. Thinking of Dean so fondly felt like having a bucket of ice water dumped over Sam's head.

What was he even doing right now? Sam had never been the type to just go off with a complete stranger, no matter how much Dean might enjoy doing that. And the way he'd felt so connected to Milo for no discernable reason left a bad feeling in Sam's stomach. Whatever was happening here wasn't just a normal hookup situation, and Sam knew that going with this man would be a truly terrible idea. He yanked his hand free from Milo's, and took a few steps back. Milo arched one eyebrow. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted to go on an adventure?"

And of course Sam didn't have any weapons on him, since they'd just been going out for a night of careless drinking, and they hadn't even figured out the cause of the mysterious deaths yet. Was Milo the cause? Had Sam inadvertently discovered the monster that they were after? Or was this town just unlucky enough to have two problems going on at once? Sam furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about what Milo had said. No one had told him what Sam would look like? That he was bringing him home? That didn't sound like some random monster; that sounded like something much more personal, even if it was far beyond Sam's abilities at the moment to figure out what exactly. "I just realized that I have other plans for tonight. It was nice meeting you, but I've got to go."

He turned to hurry away, or maybe even duck back into the bar so that he could barricade himself in the bathroom and call Dean, but Milo reached out to grab Sam's arm. This time, his grip wasn't gentle, and it felt like a steel rod had just been wrapped around him. It was definitely going to leave a nasty bruise there. "Where are you off to in such a rush?" Milo asked, though now his voice didn't sound as smooth and pleasant. It sounded rough, and annoyed. "I have so many plans for you, and it would be an awful shame to put them to waste."

Even though he knew it would be futile, Sam tried to pull himself free of Milo's grasp. Just as he'd suspected, he was unable to get himself free. He wasn't exactly a muscle bound weight lifting fanatic, but he was still stronger than the average person, and there's no way that the average person would be able to keep such a tight grip on him. Sam tried to kick at Milo's legs in an attempt to distract the man, but Milo didn't even seem remotely phased. "Let go of me!" Sam shouted, hoping to catch the attention of someone inside the bar.

Milo sighed, and his shoulders slumped down with what almost seemed like disappointment. "I was really hoping that it wouldn't have to go this way. You've got to admit, I really had you there for a few minutes, though. You were eating right out of my hand, and you would've done anything I asked. I could've told you to slit your own throat, and you would've agreed." Horror welled up in Sam because he knew that Milo was right. A minute ago, he would've done anything the other man had asked of him. "You were so happy to be just another weak willed little human? Why not go back to that? It would make everything so much easier."

"I'm not going to make anything easy for you," Sam spat. He swung out to punch Milo in the face, but Milo caught his fist, and squeezed it until there were several loud cracks, and Sam could feel pain shooting up his hand. He'd had enough broken bones in the past to know what had just happened. "Who are you?" Sam demanded. "What do you want from me?"

Milo let go of Sam's injured hand, since it was basically useless at the moment anyways, and then cupped one of Sam's cheeks. Sam immediately jerked his head back, and growled at the man. Milo sighed, and nodded once. "Alright, I get it. You're a tough guy and you won't go down without a fight. You want to know what I want from you? At the moment, I want nothing more than for you to take a little nap. And when you wake up, this'll all be over, I promise."

Fear began building up in Sam's chest, and it was strange, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt a fear like this. Whoever this man was, he was a lot different than the usual baddies he and Dean went up against. Whatever Milo's plans were, they were no doubt much more sinister than the usual 'eating people' goal that a majority of monsters seemed to share. Before he could spend more time thinking about it, though, there was a gentle pat to the top of his head, and then everything went dark.

,,,

When Dean woke up the next morning, he saw that the random chick from the bar- what was her name again? Andy? Addie? Abby?- was long gone, as evidenced by the coolness of the sheets next to him. He got up and stretched, a wry grin on his face. Last night had been fun. That chick had been more creative than Dean's usual one-nighters, and he'd enjoyed every minute of it.

And based on the fact that Sam was nowhere in sight, it seemed likely that his brother had gotten the hint to not return to the motel room for the night, and had possibly found his own hookup to crash with. The thought made Dean feel strangely sour, though he wasn't sure why. Probably because he knew that Sam was a sucker for anyone with a sob story and big eyes, and was a lot more likely to get himself into serious trouble than Dean was.

Though a quick glance at his phone to check the time did have Dean raising his eyebrows in surprise. Usually on a morning like this, Sam would've barged into the room at like six in the morning with some disgustingly healthy crap for breakfast, and cheered about how much boring research they were going to get to do. Whoever Sam had spent the night with must've been really good to get his brother to actually sleep in for once.

Dean ignored the strange pang in his stomach as he got into the shower to clean up and get dressed. He didn't want any evidence of the night left, no matter how fun it had been, because now it was time to get serious and continue working on the case. They hadn't had any progress so far, but there had to be an explanation for the string of suicides, each of which contained traces of blood from the suicide before theirs.

When it was ten o'clock and Sam still hadn't checked in at all, Dean had to force himself to take deep breaths, and try not to worry too much. He knew that his little brother was plenty capable of taking care of himself, and wasn't so little these days anyways. Someone would have to be a complete idiot to try and mess with someone who towered over them the way that Sam surely would. Then again, there was always the even worse case scenario, in which Sam had found someone that he really liked and they'd run off together to get married in Vegas and would then settle down somewhere so Sam could quit living a hunter's life.

By noon, Dean's stomach convinced him to head out of the motel room and grab something to eat, despite the fact that his stomach was also twisted up in knots of worry. Sam hadn't answered any of Dean's calls, and hadn't attempted to call Dean. Dean went to the local diner, scarfed down a bland meal without bothering to taste any of it, then asked around if anyone had seen someone matching Sam's description.

Nobody had, and Dean was starting to feel desperate. He couldn't think of anything he'd done to piss Sam off lately, and he was pretty sure that his brother was responsible enough to at least get in touch with Dean if something had come up. Which left the unfortunate idea that something bad had happened that was outside of Sam's control. What if the kid was seriously hurt? What if whatever they were hunting had gotten to him while Dean had been off screwing around? The thought of his brother being dead, or even injured, was completely unacceptable, and yet Dean didn't know what else to think based on what little he knew of the situation.

Out of ideas, and unable to focus on the details of the hunt without Sam there, Dean headed back to the bar he'd been in last night. It's the last time he'd seen his brother, and he was trying desperately to think of every single thing that had happened before he'd taken off. Unfortunately, the bar wasn't open for over an hour.

Dean knew that he should really be using that time to work on the case, because saving the lives of random civilians was very important, but he couldn't help feeling overwhelmed at the thought of Sam being gone again. The last time he'd left, it had nearly killed Dean, and he didn't think he'd survive that again. But even so, he'd much rather learn that Sam had left on his own than any of the other possibilities. Dean would rather be dead than know that his brother was unsafe.

He went back to the motel room, where he mostly just paced around for a while, trying to stop his brain from showing him images of all the worst case instances of what could've happened to Sam. When it was finally time for the bar to open up, he rushed back there as quickly as possible.

When he rushed in, he could see someone in a large hoodie still setting up. They probably hadn't meant to unlock the door quite yet, but Dean didn't care about that. He was a man on a mission, and when that mission involved tracking down his little brother, he wasn't going to let anything get in his way, including shoving his way into a business before they were even technically open.

There was a man in a purple vest standing behind the bar, wiping it down and humming under his breath. The hoodie person didn't pay any attention to Dean, but the vest person looked up thoughtfully. His eyes flicked down to his wristwatch, and then back to Dean. "Sorry, but we're not technically open 'til 1:30. Katya must've left the door open." He nodded towards the hoodie person before focusing back on Dean. "On the other hand, you look pretty desperate, and what's ten minutes between friends? So what can I get you?"

Dean blinked a few times as he processed what he'd just been told, trying to make sure that he filtered out anything that wasn't relevant to finding Sam. Then he walked right up to the bar, not even attempting to put on his usual charming grin. "I know you probably have a lot of customers in here every night, but this is very important. Do you remember a big guy, few inches taller than me? He has brown hair, a bit on the long side for a guy but not too bad, and a really goofy face, and I can't find him anywhere, and-"

The vest guy held his hands up. "Whoa, buddy, slow down there. Take a couple of deep breaths before you talk so much that you pass out." He nudged his rag out of the way, and leaned over the bar to get a closer look at Dean. "You know what? I think that I do know who you're talking about. There aren't a lot of guys around here who are taller than you, which really helps narrow it down. And he left before we got too crowded."

It was possible that they were talking about two different people, but Dean couldn't help getting his hopes up that they were both talking about Sam. "He left by himself?"

The guy shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he left with another tall dude. I thought that maybe you were having a convention or something. Or that you were a traveling basketball team, I guess. The other guy paid for his drinks, and then they left together."

Dean forced himself to take in and let out several deep breaths before he continued asking his questions. "You wouldn't happen to have overheard what they said, did you?"  
The man smiled, and nodded once. "Yeah. Well I mean, I didn't actually hear them, but it's pretty damn obvious that they were heading out, and both planned on going back to the same place. People hook up after meeting in bars all the time. It's really common." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking really hard about what had happened. "I was otherwise occupied at the time, so I wasn't really paying much attention, but as far as I can remember, they both seemed really into the idea of leaving together. I didn't hear anything specifically about where they were going, but I didn't recognize either of them, so your best bet would be checking either the motel or the Johnson's B&B."

While it was nice to know that Sam had willingly left the bar, or at least appeared to willingly leave the bar, overall that had been completely useless. Whatever reason Sam had for leaving the bar last night didn't help Dean find him today, and didn't explain why he wasn't answering any of Dean's calls, or tried to return to the motel room or anything. "Is there anything else you can remember? Please?"

The man sighed. "Sorry, but I don't usually pay all that much attention to the customers. Though now that I think about it, weren't you here last night too? Again, it's mostly just the tall person thing that caught my attention. And I remember that you took off with Ashley, right? So you don't have any right to get so upset about your crush going somewhere else."

Dean clenched his teeth as he tried to think of the million things that were wrong with that statement. It would be so easy to just swing across the bar and punch the vest-wearing idiot right in the face, but that wouldn't help solve any of Dean's problems, and in all likelihood, would only cause more. "Thanks for your help," he managed to grunt out. Then he turned and hurried out of the bar, hoping that whatever happened, Sam was going to be okay.

,,,

Sam's head felt like it had been run over by a truck, more than once, as he returned to consciousness. Even the sound of his own heartbeat seemed so loud that it caused physical pain, and he had to refrain from groaning loudly. He wasn't usually much of a heavy drinker, but the few times he'd gotten totally wasted, he'd woken up feeling only slightly worse than he did right now. And since he knows that he wouldn't have had that much to drink in the middle of a job, he knew that this awful headache was cause for concern.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting in a rather comfortable armchair, though having his limbs tied to it made it a bit less comfy, and he seemed to be sitting in the middle of a fancy looking bedroom. There were velvet and embroidered curtains draped artifully around the room, old looking paintings in golden frames, a four poster bed in one corner that looked to be straight out of a medieval fantasy, and most importantly, a large and heavy looking wooden door.

There weren't any other people in the room, but that didn't mean anything in terms of whether he was being watched or not, and Sam knew that it was always better to be safe than sorry by just not saying anything. As he sat there, all of his memories of last night flooded back. Milo. Whoever- or whatever- he was, he was the one responsible for Sam being tied up in here right now. But why?

This definitely didn't match the pattern of the other victims that had drawn Sam and Dean to the town in the first place, since those had all been suicides within the victims' own homes. This was clearly a kidnapping, and an unfamiliar place, and Sam had no idea what to make of any of it. And the things he remembered Milo saying definitely sent bad shivers down Sam's spine. Had someone hired Milo to kidnap him? But what could he have meant when he said that he was taking Sam home? Wherever he was at the moment certainly couldn't be considered home. So what the hell was going on?

He slumped down in the seat, trying to look as relaxed and non-threatening as possible. Of course the reality was that no matter how bad of a headache he was sporting, he would fight until his dying breath to get away from this place. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that it couldn't be anything good. There were no good reasons for kidnapping someone. Though Sam was curious about how Milo had managed to so thoroughly capture his attention back at the bar. It sickened him to think of how easily he would've gone along with anything the man said, even though there was someone else Sam was in love with.

After just a few minutes of waiting around for something to happen, the large door to the room slowly swung open, and Milo walked inside. He walked right up to Sam, clearly not worried about being injured by someone who was tied down so thoroughly, and who hadn't been able to harm him at all last night. Or whenever that was. Now that Sam thought about it, he hadn't been put to sleep by any natural means that he could think of, which meant that he could've been asleep for any amount of time.

Milo leaned forward to brush aside some of Sam's hair, and Sam was starting to get really sick and tired of that. He knew that it was probably wise to wait things out, and get more information about his captors and location, but Sam was suddenly filled with the urge to cause harm, so he smashed his head forward. Clearly it was a move that surprised Milo, based on the way that he didn't duck aside and instead let their heads be bashed together. Then again, the way Milo stepped back, seemingly unharmed, while Sam's headache had only increased tenfold, made Sam question his spur of the moment decision to do such a thing.

Instead of looking irritated, or pained in any way, Milo just looked disappointed. "Come on, Sammy. We were getting along so well last night, weren't we?"

Sam sincerely hoped that Milo was only referring to the few minutes where Sam had been under his spell, and not any of the unknown time after he'd been knocked unconscious. Instead of asking and sounding vulnerable, he just bared his teeth. "Don't call me Sammy."

Milo held his hands up. "You're right, that was rude of me. I don't know what could've possibly come over me. Only your brother dearest can call you that, right?"

So Sam's beginning theories before had been on the right track. Whatever was going on here was definitely personal. Milo knew Sam, and had to have seen him at some point before this trip, since he couldn't remember Dean calling him 'Sammy' at any point while they'd been in this town. But he couldn't remember the last time that Dean had actually called him that, which was worrisome. It meant that he had no idea how long Milo had been watching him. And he still didn't know why. "Who are you?" He struggled to keep his voice calm because he knew that yelling and getting angry was a bad enough idea with the usual sort of riff raff he hunted down, let alone someone who'd yet to be ruffled by anything Sam had seen.

Milo smiled. "I guess I could give you an answer to that. But you should be made aware of the fact that you aren't asking the right person to be getting all of your answers from. Of course it bolsters my ego quite a bit to think that you actually believe me to be the person in charge at the moment, but I'm afraid that I'm just a mercenary in this situation. A hired strong arm who has certain sought after abilities in certain circles."

"Okay, so then tell me who you work for. And why I'm here."

Milo arched one eyebrow. "But you didn't even ask nicely." He sounded genuinely offended, but clearly he was just a good actor, since Sam didn't believe for a moment that anything he said had any kind of effect on the other man. "Fine, fine, I can see that you're feeling desperate for answers. I'm afraid that I don't have all of them myself. Mercenaries aren't usually let in on the very important plans. But there are a couple of things I do know." Of course it was never as easy as that, though, since Milo didn't continue for several long seconds, and when he did, it was with a shit-eating grin. "But I'm afraid that I don't offer up any kind of answers for free. It'll cost you."

Sam narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to play right into this guy's hands, but he also really did want to know what was going on. "What's the price?" he asked warily.

Milo clapped his hands together. "Oh, you are truly a delight, aren't you? The price is two kisses, one for each piece of information I can share with you."

"You wouldn't tell me anything if your bosses weren't okay with it. Last I checked, mercenaries don't risk losing out on a paycheck just for a couple of kisses. And if your bosses are okay with you sharing this information, then it's even more likely that they actually want me to know it. Which means that I shouldn't have to pay you anything."

Apparently there was nothing in the world that could put Milo into a bad mood. He just nodded once. "Brains on top of beauty and brawn and blood. You really are the cream of the crop, aren't you?"

It was hard to try and listen to Milo and only pick out the important bits of information. But he was pretty sure that he'd just caught one. "Blood?"

For the first time since he'd met Milo, the other man actually looked a bit flustered. "Ah, I didn't mean to say that. But I guess it's too late now to go back and try to pretend that I didn't. But there's no point in worrying your pretty little head about it. I'm sure that my boss would much rather explain all of that to you, since I barely even understand it myself. But as for the other information- whether I'm supposed to give it to you or not, I won't do it without receiving my just pay."

Out of all the things in the world that Milo could ask for, Sam didn't understand why a couple of kisses from him would rank anywhere near the top of the list of most valuable things. Not that Sam had much in the way of money or riches to offer, but he at least had a few various magical artifacts lying around, and plenty of important knowledge of his own.

Sam was pretty tempted to just tell Milo to screw off and leave him alone, but he really did think that knowing at least a little bit about his current situation would be helpful, and he couldn't really think of anything particularly bad about a couple of kisses. Unless Milo turned out to be a bad kisser or something, but Sam didn't think that would matter since he was certain that he wouldn't enjoy it no matter what.

He heaved out a big sigh, and then nodded once. "Fine. Two kisses, no tongue, and then you tell me what you know."

Milo reached out to press one hand against Sam's forehead. "Just a precaution. I don't particularly mind being head butted, but I'm sure that it can't be very good for your delicate little head." Then he leaned forward, and pressed two quick pecks to Sam's lips. It was over within a couple of seconds, and not nearly as bad as Sam had started making it out in his head to be. Of course it was still worse than just not having to kiss a stranger at all, but at this point Sam figured that he needed to choose his battles wisely. And Milo seemed to be pretty satisfied with the very short kisses anyways, based on the excited look on his face. "Alright, so fair's fair. I can tell you two very important pieces of information, though I'm not sure entirely how useful they'll be to you. The first is that you are meant to be a king someday, which is why it's best to bring you home for safe keeping until then. The second-"

They were interrupted by someone rushing into the room, slamming the heavy door back into the wall. "Milo! What the fuck are you doing in here? We were all told very specifically-"

"I know what we were told," Milo interrupted, not sounding at all bothered. "I've decided to take a few liberties with this job. Just look at that beautiful face. How could I just stand around and do nothing? And I wasn't gonna tell the kid anything that the boss wasn't already planning on telling him."

"Not a kid," Sam muttered petulantly, even though he knew it was completely unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Milo snorted, but continued talking to the other man instead of Sam. "Besides, the boss isn't even gonna be here until-"

The other man scowled. "He's on his way right now."

That seemed to stop Milo short, and he put his hands on his hips. "Are you sure?" When the other man nodded, Milo let out a sigh, and then glanced back at Sam. "Sorry darling, guess our date is being cut short. I may have taken a few artistic liberties with the boss' instructions, but I'm not suicidal enough to go against him right to his face."

The most worrying part about that statement was the idea that someone like Milo had people that he was afraid of going up against. That was a pretty frightening thought. "You owe me another piece of information," he tried, even though he was pretty sure that it wouldn't matter.

Milo arched one eyebrow, and then grinned at Sam. "You're right." He ignored the other man who was trying to physically drag him out of the room at that point. "I suppose this just means that I'm going to have to owe you one, Sam Winchester." Was it supposed to be intimidating that Milo knew Sam's full name when he'd clearly been following him for some amount of time before this kidnapping? Then Milo let himself be pulled away, and the heavy door was slammed shut a moment later.

Sam blinked a few times as he tried to take in everything that had just happened. Whatever was going on, it certainly didn't look good for him. He slumped down in his seat, and tried struggling again, but his limbs were strapped down too securely for him to break free, and it would be a complete waste of energy to keep trying. His only hope at this point was that Dean would figure out where he was, and would come to the rescue. Though the idea of his brother having to save him for the millionth time bruised his pride, he'd rather have a bruised pride than be dead, or have to deal with whatever Milo's boss wanted him for.

,,,

"Hey, Dad? It's me, Dean. I know I've already called you like a thousand times, but this time it's really important. It's not just about some stupid hunt, or at least, I don't think it is." He paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "Sammy's missing," he finally whispered. "And I have no idea where he could be, or who he's with, and I'm so scared that-" he cut himself off, not willing to admit to his fears out loud, just in case they came true. "I know that what you're doing right now is important, but what could be more important than the life of your son? Even if I have to hear you two going at it again, I'll be happy, as long as you're both safe and where I can see you. I know it's a lot to ask, but can't you please just come and help? I don't think that I can do this on my own." Then there was a beep, to let Dean know that he'd reached the limit of how long his message could be.

He groaned as he shut the phone and slipped it into his pocket. What the hell was he even supposed to do now? He turned around to kick the wall of the bar, not caring that it caused more damage to his toes than to the brick wall. Then he closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing the top of his head against the gritty wall. He opened his eyes a moment later, staring listlessly at the ground.

His eyes widened after a few seconds when he realized just what it was that he was staring at. A cheap flip phone that had clearly been dropped. It could've belonged to anyone, really, but Dean's instincts were suddenly certain that that was the phone Sam had been using last. He quickly scooped it up and flipped it open. When he checked the call log, he could see the many missed calls from his own number. This was definitely Sam's. For a moment, Dean wondered if this could all be as simple as Sam being unable to get into contact with him due to losing his phone. But he quickly brushed that idea aside. Even if Sam lost his phone, it didn't explain why he'd never showed up at the motel. No, there was definitely more going on, and Dean was determined to figure out what.

When he returned to the motel, it finally occurred to Dean that finding Sam's phone was actually detrimental to his ability to find Sam. If it had still been on his brother, then Dean could've called the phone company and figured out an excuse to track the phone, and use that to find Sam. He sank down onto the creaky bed as he berated himself for not thinking of that plan sooner, while also reminding himself that it didn't matter anymore since he'd be unable to track his brother when he was holding his brother's phone in his hand.

Just to make sure that he hadn't missed anything important, Dean searched the call log and the messages on the phone, but there didn't seem to be any correspondence with anyone besides Dean in the past couple of days. In his frustration, it was tempting to fling the phone across the room, or maybe even stomp on it a couple of times, but he refrained from doing so because he knew that it would annoy Sam once they were reunited.

Dean got up to pace back and forth across the motel room. It wouldn't be productive in any way, but he couldn't think of anything else he could do at the moment, short of knocking on every door in town to ask if anyone had seen his brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, the case that they'd originally come here for was still important. Sam would be very disappointed if anyone else got killed when Dean could've prevented it.

When he got tired of that, he retreated to the dinky little bathroom, where a strange feeling of wrongness jolted through Dean. He paused in the middle of a step, and slowly ran his eyes around the small room, taking in every detail to try and figure out what could be off. When he finally spotted it, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it immediately. The salt line on the window sill was broken. It was just a tiny little gap, probably caused by an elbow brushing it when Dean got out of the shower, but even the sliver of space was enough to be an issue. He quickly fixed it, then walked around to check everywhere else in the motel room.

Nothing else seemed disturbed, and there weren't any indications of an intruder, but Dean couldn't just relax after that discovery. He'd never make it very far as a hunter if he was stupid enough to brush aside such a glaring sign of danger. He walked casually, just in case there were any creepy invisible baddies in the room, and hauled his duffel bag up onto the clean bed so that he could begin rummaging through it. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his guns and start taking them apart to clean them, so taking one out now wouldn't seem too suspicious. Not that there was necessarily anything in the room with Dean, but if there was, he wasn't going to be taking any chances.

Once he had a weapon in his hand, he definitely felt a bit better about the situation. It was loaded with silver bullets, which were very effective against a multitude of creatures, and he hoped that it would actually be useful in this case. Though maybe it was asking for too much to hope that whatever was causing the suicides would be connected to whatever had taken Sam, or even that they had the same weaknesses.

Not wanting to waste the time of dismantling his gun, since that would only leave him unarmed at the moment anyways, Dean got up and casually strolled out of the motel room. He paused to make sure that the salt lines were all in place, and then he closed and locked the door behind him. He still had no idea where to even begin looking for his brother, and as much as it burned him up inside to not make Sam his priority, he knew that he could at least try and help save more people.

He headed to the house of the latest victim, and flashed a fake badge and pretty smile so that he'd be let inside by the grieving girlfriend. "Sorry about the mess. I was always picking up after Sarah, and I'm-" her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat before continuing, though she abruptly changed the topic. "What can I help you with, Detective? I already talked to the police last week."

She led him into a small living room, and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. "I apologize for taking up your time, miss, but this is important. I'm sure you're aware that Sarah wasn't the first person in town who took their own life within the past couple of months."

The woman nodded once. "I know. Some people are talking about a cult with a suicide pact. But that's just ridiculous, because Sarah would never be involved with something like that."

"You also never thought she'd be the type to take her own life," Dean pointed out tactlessly. He really needed Sam's soft touch and puppy dog eyes on these cases if he didn't want to offend everyone that they tried to talk to.

The woman narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms over her hips. "Sarah struggled with depression as a teenager, but only because her parents died when she was still so young. She confided in me everything about that time of her, including her multiple hospitalizations. When she was in college, she petitioned to have those visits wiped off of everything but her private doctor's medical records so that they wouldn't interfere with her future."

Dean couldn't keep the surprise off of his face. "But in the report, you were very adamant about the fact that there had never been any indication of suicidal thoughts or actions."

"Of course I said that! I know Sarah better than anyone in this town, and I know that even though depression rarely ever just disappears, she hasn't battled against it in decades. She talked about everything with me, and there were absolutely no signs that she was going to-!" she bowed her head down and spoke in a softer voice, forcing herself to remain calm. "She proposed to me three days before she died. I enthusiastically accepted. Why would anyone kill themself so soon after going out of their way to make a choice about their future?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't remember seeing that in any report either."

The woman sighed, and she looked completely exhausted. "No one really cares, Detective. It's just a bunch of crazy people killing themselves as far as anyone is concerned. No one seems at all concerned about the fact that Sarah hung herself, and had no other injuries, but when I found her, there was blood on the doorknob. I'm not an idiot. I've talked to some of the others who have lost people. According to them, at least of the ones who were the ones to discover their loved ones, there was blood on the doorknobs in all the cases, no matter how far from the door the body was. And only one of them said that they could've seen it coming."

Clearly this woman had put a lot of thought into everything, not that Dean could blame her. If he were in her situation, and found Sammy, he would not be able to just accept it just like that. Even if there was absolutely nothing supernatural about what was going on, there was definitely more to the story. Maybe some kind of deranged serial killer or something. Which was still something Dean could try and put a stop to. "Miss Anderson-"

"It would've been Anderson-Lecky some time next year," she said somberly. "Detective, you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't think there was something going on too. Whatever it takes to figure things out, I'll help."

Dean couldn't help feeling impressed by this woman. She was older, somewhere in her late forties, and had just recently lost the person she'd been with for the past twenty-five years, but she was bound and determined to get to the bottom of this, to the point where she'd already begun to do her own research into the matter. "I have to ask; what exactly is it that you think is going on?"

That made the woman frown for a moment before she shrugged, a helpless look on her face. "I don't know. But I know that this isn't natural. That many people wouldn't just arbitrarily decide to kill themselves. Maybe one or two, but thirteen in three months? It doesn't seem right. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, we need to stop it."

It would be cruel for Dean to deny this woman the chance to get closure and justice, since that was exactly what had been motivating his dad for the past twenty years. He would just do his best to keep her safe. And he had the feeling that if he rejected her help now, she would just go off and investigate on her own anyways. "Miss-"

"Just call me Catherine," she interrupted. "And you said your name is Blake, right Detective?" When he didn't respond immediately, she leaned forward in her seat so that she could meet Dean's eyes. "Now why don't you tell me just what the hell is going on around here?"

,,,

Sam wanted to berate himself for somehow being able to actually fall asleep in the middle of a kidnapping, but in his defense, his head had been killing him all day, and once Milo had taken off, there had been absolutely nothing to do for several hours. He was woken up by the sound of the door to the room opening, and was relieved to find that his head wasn't bothering him much anymore, despite a slight ache in the front from where he'd smashed it against Milo's. It would be much easier to escape without anything impairing him.

He scowled when he saw who was entering the room. A girl, probably around eleven or twelve years old. Now he was left in the awkward position of trying to figure out whether she was a natural made monster, or if she was being possessed, because the answer to that would definitely change up his plans on how to escape. If she was some innocent person being possessed, he didn't want to hurt her. "So who're you supposed to be?"

The girl smiled, and it sent shivers down Sam's spine. "I'm the boss. I know you must've been eagerly awaiting me, and I do apologize for the long wait, but you should be honored that I rushed to get here so quickly as it is. I know you've been looking for me for a while now. We've actually met before, but I guess you wouldn't remember me since I was wearing a different face at the time. And you were still in diapers." That sounded like it had to be referring to- but it couldn't be- Sam must not have been very good at hiding his mix of growing confusion and panic if the way the girl's grin grew was anything to go by. "You're a smart kid, Sammy. I'm sure you can figure it out. But I'll give you a hint anyways." A moment later, her eyes were a sickly yellow.

Sam's eyes widened, and it took a strong effort on his part to not start hyperventilating. He knew that he needed to remain calm to figure out what the hell was going on, even though he kinda just wanted to start screaming and never stop. While Dad was off ignoring all of Dean's calls, the thing he was searching for was standing right in front of Sam. Which also told him that he'd have to figure out a way of escaping that involved hurting Yellow-Eyes without hurting the girl. "What do you want with me?"

The demon chuckled, and walked closer to Sam, apparently just as confident in her ability to remain unharmed, just like Milo had been earlier. "To be perfectly honest, I never intended to meet you so early. I had a whole grand event planned out, where all of my children would fight to the death to figure out which one would be the winner. Your gifts may not have manifested yet, at least not consciously, but I was betting on you being a strong contender?"

"Your children?" Sam felt like he was going to be sick.

The girl shrugged. "Well, not the way you're thinking. Mommy didn't screw a demon, if that's what you're afraid of. Your daddy really is your daddy, though you'd probably prefer to learn otherwise. But we do share DNA. And I'm the one who made you into who you're supposed to be."

If Sam lingered on the idea that he had any kind of connection to the creature that had killed his mother, he was going to completely freak out. He needed to focus on the more relevant details at the moment. "If you hadn't planned on us meeting, then why am I here right now?"

The demon sighed. "Isn't that the big question? To be honest, it's because someone's been trying very hard to interfere with my plans. I wouldn't normally care, but this person is being a particularly persistent pain in the ass. So many of my children are already dead, long before I could bring them into the arena."

"You don't seem very broken up about it."

She shrugged again. "Most of them were going to end up dead eventually anyways. But it would've been on my terms, and it would've served my purpose. But it would be foolish to have any attachment to any of my children. Except for the winner." She laughed loudly. "I said I was betting on you, but you aren't the guaranteed victor quite yet, Sammy. You still need to prove yourself."

None of this was making any sense. "But what's the point in any of this? What is your purpose?" He couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice, because if this had anything to do with why his mother had been killed, he needed to know. And if he made it out of here alive, then he could tell Dean and Dad all about it too.

She stepped even closer, though she did stand just far enough back that Sam wouldn't be able to headbutt her even if he wanted to. "I want an heir, Sammy. And I'm going to get one. If that means keeping you safe here until the danger is over, then so be it." She paused for a moment, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe we can even make your stay here have more than one purpose." She reached into the pocket of the bright pink sweater dress she was wearing, and pulled out a pocket knife. Sam flinched back, which only seemed to amuse her. "I already told you that I want you to live. What would be the point in roughing you up now?" Then she jammed the knife down into her own wrist, and Sam couldn't bite back his shout. She only seemed more amused by how worried he was about the girl, and then she shoved her arm forward so that it was pressed against Sam's mouth. "Come on, Sammy, drink up."

He wanted to spit out some venomous words, but he couldn't open his mouth if he didn't want any of that demon blood to drip inside. He had no idea why Yellow-Eyes wanted him to drink her blood, but he knew that if that's what the demon wanted, then he absolutely could not do that. Not to mention how revolting the thought of drinking anyone's blood was.

The demon's self inflicted injury finished healing, and she pulled her arm away with a soft 'tut'. "Come on, Sammy, be a good boy. How about we make a little deal? You have a few sips of my blood, which I know many people would literally kill for the opportunity to do so, or I'll slit this girl's throat, and then leave her to die."

It was unfair, because of course Sam would do whatever he could to protect the lives of innocent people. He scowled, but nodded once. "Fine."

She looked happy despite his angry tone. "Wonderful." Then she stabbed her arm again, and Sam hoped that those injuries wouldn't be enough to kill the girl anyways. When the bloody arm was raised to his lips, his instincts screamed for him to clamp his mouth shut and refuse to play along, but he forced himself to open his mouth. A few drops of blood landed on his tongue before the wound healed again, and Sam was surprised to find that it didn't taste like the usual coppery blood of a human. It tasted oddly sweet, and there was no tinge of iron to it. "See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

"What was the point of that, though?"

Yellow-Eyes smirked. "The point is that I wanted you to do that, and you did." She reached up to ruffle his hair, most likely leaving behind bloody streaks in the strands, before she backed away. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Sammy, even if I never expected it to be under these circumstances." The use of the familiar nickname grated on Sam's nerves, but unlike with Milo, he felt it would be best to just say nothing. They knew barely anything at all about this demon, but they knew that it was very powerful and very dangerous. It wasn't worth the risk of annoying Yellow-Eyes over something as petty as a name, even though he was sure that the demon was calling him Sammy solely to bother him.

Without another word, the demon turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Sam slumped back in his seat as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. Yellow-Eyes had mentioned gifts. As much as he didn't want anything from the demon, maybe they would be something that would help him escape?

Then Sam couldn't help letting his mind wander to Jessica. She'd been his best friend from the day that they met, and when she'd suggested that they move in together so that they'd be able to watch out for each other, he'd been eager to accept. He hadn't known what he was really dragging her into, though. At least not right away. But once he'd started having those dreams about Jessica, he should've known to get as far away from her as possible, in order to keep her safe. He should've somehow known that his dream was real.

Sam jolted at that thought. Why would it have ever occurred to him that he'd be dreaming about something that would actually happen? At the time, he'd assumed that they were just nightmares related to his mom, but that didn't really make sense, since he'd been too little to actually remember anything he'd seen that night. It was crazy, but if Sam really had somehow dreamed the future before, then what if that was one of the so called gifts that Yellow-Eyes had mentioned? But the demon had said that Sam hadn't manifested them yet. Did that mean Yellow-Eyes didn't know about Sam's nightmares? Or were the nightmares what she'd meant by saying it hadn't been consciously?

He had no idea what the answers to his questions were. But he knew that Yellow-Eyes wouldn't have fed him demon blood without a reason. And he knew that if there was a way to get out of here and get back to Dean, then he'd have to take it, even it it meant playing right into the demon's hands.

,,,

Dean leaned back against the couch once he'd finished explaining as much as he felt was necessary to know for this case. He left out everything about why his family had become a family of hunters in the first place, and the stuff about the childhood that would've been downright unbearable without Sam in it, and all the drama about Sam going off to college, but he'd told her everything else. That almost all the stories of things that go bump in the night were real. That he had no proof, but believed the suicides to be the result of something supernatural. That he'd come to town with Sam, who'd since gone missing without a trace beyond a dropped phone.

Once he'd gotten it all out, Catherine stared at Dean with wide eyes. He wouldn't blame her if she called him crazy and demanded that he immediately leave her house. But after a minute of silence between them, she let out a sigh, and leaned back in her own seat. "I don't know what's crazier. The fact that you seem to believe that all that stuff is real, or the fact that I think I believe you about it all."

Dean shrugged. "I'm not going to go out and do anything stupid just to try to convince you that I'm telling the truth. I'm letting you know so that you can understand why it would be too dangerous for you to try figuring shit out on your own, and so that you don't wander into the wrong mess, and wind up getting yourself killed."

One corner of Catherine's mouth tilted up into a wistful smile. "Yeah, Sarah would kill me if she found out that I'd gone and gotten myself killed so soon after her." She sighed, and a more serious look covered her face. "So do you have any idea what might be causing the suicides?"

"Unfortunately, I don't. We interviewed a few of the witnesses when we first rolled into town, but no one has been able to tell us anything useful. Sam's usually the smart one who's good at figuring this stuff out."

Catherine stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. You wouldn't be working together if he thought that you were a total idiot. But if you really don't think that you can solve this without him, then why don't we just focus on finding him first? Maybe we'll even solve two things in one, if it turns out that his disappearance has anything to do with the rest of the stuff that's been going on."

It was tempting, but Dean knew that spending more time focused on Sam would only result in letting more innocent people die. He loved his brother more than anything, but he also trusted that Sam could take care of himself, at least for a little while longer. And Dean just knew that he had to still be alive. While, he didn't actually know that, but he wanted to believe that if anything permanent happened to Sam, he would just know it. "I don't think that they could be connected. It wouldn't make any sense for whatever's at play here to spend months comfortably being involved with suicides, only to suddenly change it up and make a person disappear instead."

Catherine nodded once. "I'm sure you'll find him. In the meantime, how do we go about figuring out what's behind all the deaths?"

Normally this would be around the time that they jumped right into the research, whether in books or by talking to people, but Dean could see Catherine's current condition, and he found himself feeling sympathy for her situation. "A good start would be you going and taking a shower and changing into clean clothes while I make some food. It's never a good idea to start an investigation on an empty stomach."

For a moment, it seemed like Catherine was going to argue with him, but then she just sighed and nodded again. "Yeah, alright. Not that anyone would really blame me for going around town looking like this, but I suppose that I do still have some dignity to maintain." She offered Dean a small smile. "Thank you." Then she turned to walk away, and Dean could hear the footsteps going up the stairs a few seconds later.

He found his way into the kitchen, and was relieved to find some easy to make boxes of macaroni and cheese. Most of the stuff in the fridge looked like it had already gone bad, and Dean didn't want to touch any of it. But while the water was boiling on the stove, he scrounged around for a couple of trashbags, and emptied out everything that seemed to have passed it's date.

By the time Catherine came back downstairs, the food was ready, and there was a space cleared at the kitchen table for them to sit down. She smiled gratefully. "You really didn't have to do all this. To be honest, a lot of this mess is from Sarah, not me. I always have- had to clean up after her. I'm a little afraid that if I clean the house now, it'll always be too clean, because it'll never have Sarah around to mess things back up again."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Dean finally remembered to say. "I know that it's not easy to lose the people you love the most. I'm not so good with the whole 'talking about feelings' thing, but I'm here to listen if there's anything that you do need to talk about, I promise."

They quickly finished eating, and then Dean cleaned up and put everything back where they'd found it. Both of them headed outside, and Catherine gestured to her car. "Might be easier than walking around everywhere. It's a small town, but it's not that small." Once they were both inside, Catherine turned to look at Dean. "So where do we start? You said that you already talked to some people, right? So now what?"

He frowned. "You might not want to be around for this part, but it's the part where we go to the morgue and investigate the bodies. You never know what kinds of weird crap you can find out from that. The problem is that the suicides were weeks apart, and most of the bodies are probably already gone."

Catherine imitated his frown. "Sarah's will still be there," she said after a few seconds. "Her brother is a lawyer in California, and we decided that instead of making him leave in the middle of an important case, we'd wait until it was over for the funeral."

Dean reached over to put his hand on Catherine's shoulder for a moment as a show of support. "Now I'm sure that you won't want to be around for this part. You shouldn't have to see the body for any reason."

Catherine stubbornly shook her head. "I can do this. I'm not missing out on anything that could potentially help us find out what's going on. I'd never be able to forgive myself for that. Come one, Detective." She used the title almost teasingly, in an attempt to lighten up the tense atmosphere.

They got to the morgue in a decent amount of time, and spent a moment arguing over whether or not Catherine could get a fake badge. He finally got her to quit arguing when he pointed out that she lived in this small town, and everyone would know that she wasn't a detective from out of town.

Walking inside a morgue always felt so morbid, but Dean had done this enough times by now that he wasn't too bothered. When they walked inside, there was already someone in there, standing over a metal table with a dead old man on it. The man in the lab coat looked up at them, and frowned. "Miss Anderson. Is there something I can do for you?"

Dean stepped forward, and flashed his badge. "I need to see the body of Sarah Lecky."

The other man, who had a name tag that said Veronica on it, looked ready to start asking all kinds of questions about why Dean needed to see the body. But instead of asking, he wisely chose to just nod and lead the way into the room where the bodies were stored. He glanced over at Catherine with some concern. "I'm really not sure that it's a good idea for you to be seeing this, Miss Anderson. It's best to just remember our loved ones how they were in life, not how they are in death." When Catherine made no move to leave, the man just sighed, and pulled open one of the lockers so he could slide out of the tray with the covered body. "If you have any questions, just holler."

Once the man had left to go back to the autopsy he'd been in the middle of, Dean pulled back the light sheet to get a look at the body. Sarah Lecky looked to be a couple years older than her girlfriend. She had very pale scars running up and down her arms and legs that were barely visible from most angles. There was a big ugly bruise wrapped around her neck, and Dean snapped on a pair of rubber gloves from the nearby box. He did all of the typical tests, but nothing important seemed to jump out at him.

Catherine didn't put on any gloves, or make any move to touch the body, but she did look down at her dead girlfriend with a look of devastation that could only come from losing someone who had been so beloved. "I miss her so much," she whispered. She reached into her pocket to pull out a ring. "This is the ring she proposed to me with. She knows I love silver, so she got me a silver ring even though she's allergic to it. She was always doing stupid things like that."

At first, Dean wanted to try and give the woman some privacy, but then what she'd said seemed to catch something in his mind. Allergic to silver? That was pretty rare. Most cases were people who were actually allergic to the nickel that cheap jewelry makers used to make jewelry with, and then they covered it with a thin layer of silver or gold. But that ring looked like the expensive kind, which meant that it was probably almost entirely silver. That shouldn't cause any kind of allergic reaction. "Have you ever seen her touch silver before?" Dean couldn't help asking before it occurred to him that it might be insensitive.

If Catherine was startled by the question, she didn't show it. "Once. It was actually how we met. My necklace broke and fell, and I didn't even realize it until she was handing it back to me. She got a rash on her hand so bad that it looked like she'd been burnt, and I drove her to the emergency room immediately because I felt bad that she'd been hurt while trying to help me."

Burned by silver. Probably not human then. He pulled off his gloves, and hurried back into the other room, where the lab coat guy just seemed to be finishing up. "Do you have files on all of the suicide victims from the past three months?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"I just need to see them. To find out if they have any allergies on record."

The man scoffed, and shook his head. "They don't. I haven't got the ability to memorize everyone's file or anything, but I remember wondering why so many people without a single allergy were so eager to off themselves during pollen season when they're the ones who are best off. You can still look at them if you want, but that's all they'll say."

Dean accepted that information, then grabbed Catherine so that they could leave. Of course it had never occurred to him to question the existence of the victims' allergies. They got back into Catherine's car, and Dean gave her the address to one of the witnesses he hadn't talked to yet. They headed off, and Dean couldn't help staring out the window, wondering if he was really onto something here, or if this was just another strange coincidence.

,,,

It had never occurred to Sam to pay much attention to these things in the movies, but now that he was actively a part of a kidnapping scenario, he had to wonder. In all the movies, where people are locked up and tortured for days on end, where do they go to the bathroom? Do they just pee themselves? Or do their captors risk untying them long enough to escort them to a bathroom?

Either way, Sam was about to find out for himself. He had a pretty big bladder normally, but he was pretty sure that it had been about a day already since he'd been taken, and he really needed to pee. He didn't want to damage his pride by calling out for someone to take him to a bathroom. But he was pretty sure that his pride would be hurt even worse if he pissed his pants here.

"Hey! Somebody! Hey! I need to use the bathroom!" He wasn't even sure if sound traveled through the thick door, because he hadn't heard anything coming from the other side. And he didn't know if there was anyone standing right outside, or what the layout of this building was at all. But he really hoped that someone could hear him.

After a few more minutes of yelling himself hoarse, Sam resigned himself to the fact that he had no other choice than the pee his pants. But he didn't want that to be the case. He was already annoyed enough about the fact that he was in this situation at all. Anything else would just be unnecessary humiliation.

Just when he was about to give up, and forever after sympathize with all the kidnapping scenes that the movies didn't show, the door opened, and Milo walked in. "Thought I heard you making a ruckus up in here. You know that we're not going to suddenly decide to let you go just because you yell a whole bunch."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't let me out of the building. But unless you want to be mopping up the floor and this chair, you might want to let me at least use the bathroom."

Milo blinked a few times as though he'd just been told something completely insane. "The bathroom?" Then he suddenly started laughing. "Oh my goodness, you're just a human. You have to use the bathroom. We really should've been more prepared for this to happen." He tilted his head. "Here's the thing though. The boss already took off, and no one around here is going to snitch on me for interacting with you. But that doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to get sloppy, and do something that would allow you to take off. So I'll take you to the bathroom if you're okay with having a bit of a headache. I'll just do the same thing I did to you last night."

That had been a killer headache, but he'd rather that than a wet pair of pants. "Fine, deal, can you just hurry up with this please? I really need to go."

Milo reached out to pat the top of Sam's head, and then everything went dark. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the fanciest looking bathroom he'd ever seen. Marble sinks and floors, and an actual chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was very over the top, but Sam didn't care about that. All he cared about was getting some relief. Which is why he was annoyed to find that while his legs had been unbound, his arms had been strapped behind his back.

"How am I supposed to do this without using my hands?"

Milo offered a lecherous grin. "I'd be more than happy to offer my assistance."

That was not a pleasant thought. "How about you just let me take care of this myself? You didn't seem to get any injuries when I tried attacking you before, and it's really easy for you to use your weird knock out powers on me, so it shouldn't make a difference whether my hands are tied or not, right?"

Milo sighed. "I suppose you're right. A guy can always dream though, right?" He touched Sam's hands and arms more times than necessary while removing the ropes, but Sam was just glad to have them off. Until he walked over to the closest urinal and realized that Milo was just standing there, staring at him shamelessly. "Sorry, but even if I wasn't interested in the free show, I'd have to watch. It may be unlikely that you could get the drop on me, but I'd rather not take that risk at all."

Sam sighed, but decided that there were more important things to worry about. He took care of his business, and then washed his hands. "So if you didn't even consider the fact that I'd have to take pee breaks, did you also forget about the fact that I'll need to eat? Yellow-Eyes seems intent on keeping me alive, so I don't think she'd appreciate it if you let me starve to death."

Milo tilted his head. "Yellow-Eyes?" Then a look of understanding crossed his features, and he nodded. "Oh, you mean Azazel. Yeah he probably wouldn't want to find out that you died from neglect." He laughed at the look on Sam's face. "I'm kidding, don't worry. You really need to learn how to not take everything so seriously. I have to eat too, and don't worry because I just eat normal stuff. I'll take you back to your room, and then I'll whip up something for you to eat."

Sam nodded, and let himself be knocked out again. He woke up bound to the same chair as before, and he sighed. He hadn't yet gotten a chance to get away, but he was pretty sure that his best best would be when Yellow-Eyes, apparently actually named Azazel, wasn't around so that he wouldn't have to worry about hurting the human girl who was being possessed. Then again, Milo and whoever else was around might also be possessed. But Sam couldn't think of any demons that acted like Milo, with the strange knockout thing, and the way he'd enthralled Sam at first, and how he seemed impervious to any damage.

It was really boring to just sit around in a room, and Sam couldn't help almost wishing that he was being tortured, at least so he'd have something to do. It felt like ages before Milo returned. "Lettuce, bacon, tomato, turkey, American cheese, and mayo on wheat toast. And some delicious homemade potato chips on the side. Hope you're not too picky." In fact Sam was rather picky most of the time, but with the way his stomach growled, he would have to be an idiot to turn down the offer of food. Milo laughed at the reaction, and set the plate down on Sam's lap while crouching in front of Sam. "Here's the thing, I don't really think it would be a good idea to untie you. So I guess it's just up to me to feed you and make sure that you are nice and full and satisfied."

It was very awkward and embarrassing to be hand fed when he was a grown ass man, but it was a good sandwich, and he was too hungry to turn it down just on a matter of pride. There was the slight possibility that the food could be laced with something, but Sam didn't think that that was the case. Milo could easily render him unconscious if he wanted, and nobody seemed to be trying to question Sam about any kind of information, so drugging him wouldn't really accomplish anything at all.

When the food on the plate was gone, Sam felt much better than before. When Milo stood up and grabbed the plate, Sam decided to take a risk on talking. Milo didn't seem particularly interested in hurting Sam. "You still owe me a second piece of information."

Milo snorted. "All in good time, my friend. No point in jumping the gun here. I've always been someone with the firm belief that delayed gratification is the best sort."

"But you were just going to tell me right away before you were interrupted."

Milo shrugged. "I'm also of the firm belief that a man is allowed to change his mind about absolutely anything at any time. Now sit tight, and if you need anything, I guess you should just start shouting again. You sound pretty cute with a sore throat. Makes me think of all kinds of delicious reasons for why your voice is so wrecked." Then he turned and left, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts again.

,,,

When they returned to Catherine's house at the end of the day, Dean wasn't sure whether he'd managed to obtain more questions or answers. None of the victims had anything official note on any medical record to indicate an allergy, but speaking with their loved ones yielded the information that all of them apparently had severe silver allergies, to the point where most of them refused to touch the precious metal for even a few seconds.

They'd grabbed some take out on the way, and Catherine poured everything out of the cartons and onto paper plates so that they could at least pretend to be civilized people. "I'm not really sure what the big deal is about everyone being allergic to silver, but I suppose anything that connects all the victims is probably important, right?"

"Right. But that's not the only thing so interesting about this allergy business. Normal humans aren't allergic to silver. At least not any that I've ever heard of."

Catherine paused with the fork hovering in the air near her mouth. "What are you saying?"

He frowned. "I don't really know anything for certain. But for that many people to be so inhumanly allergic to silver, and to be connected by all the suicides, I can't help thinking that maybe the victims weren't human. But there's a lot of creatures who have a weakness to silver, and without meeting any while they're still alive it's impossible to say for sure what they were exactly. But whatever it is, maybe whoever's behind these suicides is actually doing everyone a favor-"

Catherine lunged across the table to slap Dean across the face. "How dare you say that? As difficult as it is to believe that Sarah wasn't entirely human, I find that I really don't care even if she wasn't. I loved her more than anything, and nothing could ever change that. No matter what she was, she was an amazing person, and she made everyone who knew her so happy. So don't you dare imply that she was some kind of monster even if she wasn't human. And I find that pretty hard to believe anyways, since your only evidence at this point is a silver allergy!"

Dean blinked a few times, and tried to think of a logical way to explain the situation. "I know that it might be hard to believe, but you should know that we've never met any non-human creatures who were good guys. Maybe she was really kind and loving with you, but that doesn't change the fact that she could've been getting up to anything when you weren't around to see it."

Catherine clenched her jaw, and looked ready to take another swung at Dean. He'd let her if she really felt that it was necessary, but he kind of hoped that she wouldn't because she had a pretty good arm for an older lady. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If it's really that easy for these people to disguise themselves as humans, then there's probably millions of them that you never even learn about because they don't do anything that might catch a hunter's attention. Assuming that the circumstances of one's birth, or whatever else, immediately makes them an evil killer makes you a prejudiced and judgy bastard. I get that you're trying to do good, and stopping the ones who are hurting people is a noble goal, but trying to say that all of them are bad just makes you suck. I know Sarah. She could never hurt anybody, even unintentionally. She just couldn't. And I don't think you can be any good at your job if you're going to be that blind. I'm not stupid enough to think that I can figure everything out on my own, but I'm also not stupid enough to work with anyone who's going to so quickly jump to make up facts of the case that don't exist." Out of steam, she sank back down into her seat, and scooped up another mouthful of rice.

Dean stared at her while she chewed her food as though she hadn't just hit him and ranted on like some kind of crazy person. He couldn't really think of anything to say that wouldn't get her set off again. "You're very… accepting."

Catherine shrugged. "I'm a woman who's been in a relationship with another woman since the eighties." The way she said it implied that that was more than enough explanation, but she continued anyways. "And even if I weren't, I'm a person who wishes for everyone to be treated with basic respect and decency. And to be frank, I'm quite disappointed to find out that you aren't the same way. And it just occurred to me that you've never even tried to have anyone arrested so that they could get a fair trial, and that just isn't right."

Trying to explain that monsters weren't people seemed like it would be a pointless argument at the moment. But there was no way that any of them could be harmless. It would ruin everything if that were true. How many monsters had Dean killed who'd just been- No, he couldn't think like that. He knew that he was right. But regardless of whether or not the victims were monsters, there was still the problem of whatever was causing them to be dead. He took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. "You kinda sound like Sam right now." Catherine arched one eyebrow curiously. "When we were younger, he got into a big fight with dear old Dad about whether or not monsters are people too. Whether they've got souls."

Catherine quickly swallowed what was in her mouth. "You guys have the same dad?"

"Yeah, didn't I mention it before? We're brothers."

For some reason, that brought up a strange look on Catherine's face. "Brothers? That's, um, interesting. From the way you talked about him, I thought…" she trailed off, and decided not to elaborate on what it was that she'd thought. "So where do we go from here?"

That was actually a good question, so Dean decided to let their previous conversation go. "We finish dinner and then get a good night's sleep. It's never good to try hunting when you're tired, because that's when you're more likely to make careless mistakes. So we've established that the silver allergy is currently the only thing connecting all of the suicides, besides all taking place in the same town within a short amount of time. So we see if there's anyone who would know who has silver allergies. Are there any jewelry stores or tattoo and piercing shops around here?"

"A few."

Dean nodded once. "Good. Then we'll check those out, see if any place has had all thirteen victims as customers at any point. I'm going to go back to my motel, just in case Sam shows up looking for me, as much as I doubt that happening. So let's get some sleep and regroup in the morning. Say around nine? Those kinds of stores probably won't be open until a little later, but that'll give us time to have breakfast and talk things over to see if anything jumps out at us."

He helped clean up what little mess had been made by their dinner, and then he headed out. The Impala was still parked in Catherine's driveway where he'd left it, and he drove back to the motel. Though he felt more annoyed than usual at the thought of going inside. Crappy motels were all the same, and Dean had seen enough to last a lifetime, but he knew that the one thing that had always made them decent living places was that he'd had Sam with him.

Just thinking about the fact that he had no idea where Sam was made his heart clench in his chest. When Sam had first gone off to school, it had been a horrible, lonely, miserable time for Dean. But at least he'd known where to find the kid if anything really bad were to happen. Right now, he didn't even have that going for him, and he was scared to think about what could be happening to his brother right at this moment.

He pushed the motel door open, but paused before actually stepping inside. The salt line right in front of the door was broken. It didn't look deliberate, but like someone had stepped on it while walking into the room. But if someone could just step right in, there was no reason to break the line. Dean had no idea what was going on, but he knew that he didn't like it.

He quickly pulled out his gun and walked into the dark room, wishing that he'd come back an hour ago so that there would at least be some natural light on his side. He rushed over to the light switch and flicked it so that the room was bathed in artificial light, and tensed even more when he saw a man lounging on the bed that Sam had claimed. He didn't say anything, just continued holding out his gun and glaring at the man.

After a few seconds, the man smiled, but didn't make any attempt to stand up. Which was good for him, because Dean was feeling pretty trigger happy at the moment. "Dean, relax. I come bearing the gift of good news. I thought you might be a little bit worried about your brother, and I know he's been a bit worried about you, so I thought that I could make you both happy by assuring you both of each other's continued good health."

"Who the fuck are you?"

Now that Dean took more time to get a good look, even with the man sitting down, he was obviously tall. And hadn't that bartender said that Sam had left with a tall guy? "I suppose it's only fair you learn my name, since I already know yours, along with basically everything else about you. I'm Milo."

The name meant nothing to Dean, but the fact that this man was claiming to know Sam meant everything. "Where's Sam? And why are you here right now?"

Milo shrugged. "Your brother is a truly fascinating specimen. And I have a deal with him. I owe him some information, but my boss has kindly informed me that I shouldn't be talking about things that are none of my business. So instead, I thought he'd be happy to learn how his brother's doing. And I'd hate to be a liar, which is why I came all this way just to see you for myself so that I can honestly tell Sam that you look just fine without him around."

"You aren't telling him shit. Now tell me where he is so that I can go and get him."

Milo sighed. "When is it ever that easy, Dean? I'm not going to tell you anything, even if you threaten to shoot me. On a scale of fluffy bunnies to God himself, you rank somewhere around the threatened kitten." He sounded too goddamn confident in himself, and Dean wanted to bring him down a few levels.

Dean scowled. "Fine. No threats." He started to lower his gun, and then pulled the trigger, firing right into Milo's leg. When the bullet simply bounced off of the man's leg, Dean could suddenly understand the smugness about him. And also promptly led Dean to wonder how the hell he was going to get out of this one.


	2. Chapter 2

**TotallyChic- Thank you! I hope that this wasn't too long a wait for the conclusion!**

It wasn't like Sam enjoyed being visited by his captor, but he also didn't enjoy sitting around doing nothing so that his brain could rot away along with all of his muscles. Of course he knew that he wasn't actually going to lose muscle mass from a couple days of sitting around, but he also knew that Azazel sounded like he planned on holding onto Sam for an indefinite amount of time. Until the danger passed, whatever that was.

So when the door opened, Sam wasn't entirely sure of whether he should feel relieved or terrified. He decided that it would be healthy to feel a combination of both. An unfamiliar man walked in, but when dealing with demons, that didn't really mean much. "Good morning Sammy. You should be aware that it really is quite the special treat that I'm here right now. Originally I was going to be far away from here, but then I decided that I don't quite trust anyone to keep a close enough eye on you. Perhaps if you were just some ordinary kid it would be another story. But if you were anything other than what you are, I would have no interest in you anyways, so I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Azazel?" Sam hated how hesitant he sounded, but in his defense, it could be very difficult to tell whether a demon had hopped bodies or not. He couldn't think of any particular reason to drop the kid, but if that was the case, Sam just hoped that she was okay.

The man grinned, and his eyes flashed yellow for a moment, confirming that Sam was correct. "Yup. I know that you Winchesters can be clever little brats when you want to be, and it really isn't worth the risk of me taking off, only to return later and find out that you took off without even leaving a polite little note behind for me."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Then how are you going to take care of that danger that you mentioned? Do you trust other people to do that even if you don't trust them to be able to keep me in line?"

Azazel didn't stop grinning, and it was starting to feel annoying. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, Sammy. I promise that I'll work everything out. And I also promise you that if you try to cause any trouble whatsoever, I will have no problem with killing off the meat suit that I'm wearing at the moment. It's rather handy to be constantly walking around with my very own hostage, isn't it? Just never cross me, and you won't have to worry about any innocent blood on your hands. Sounds pretty fair to me. And if you agree to that, then I'm even willing to let you get free reign of the house. There's nothing in here that can be used to contact your brother, of course, and nothing that could harm me or the other occupants. But I thought you might prefer to stretch your legs a little. What do you say, Sammy?"

Cooperating with anything a demon asked of him, especially the Yellow-Eyed demon who John Winchester had been hunting for over twenty years, seemed like a really bad idea. But it would be nice to not be cramped up in this single chair forever, and to be able to use the bathroom without an escort. He wouldn't be able to run away even if he got the chance, because it would mean letting an innocent person be killed by Azazel, but maybe he'd figure out something that could incapacitate the demon. Sam knew that he could get pretty creative sometimes.

He nodded once. "Fine. I promise not to cause any problems, as long as you promise not to hurt any innocent people."

Azazel held his hands up. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Then he walked around Sam, and fiddled with the ropes for a few seconds before they all went slack, and Sam was able to move enough to tear them away and stand up. It felt nice to stretch his arms up over his head, which was accompanied by a satisfied little cracking noise in his shoulders. "I'm so glad that both of us could act like sensible adults here. Now follow me and I'll introduce you to the rest of the gang. Just don't throw any house parties whenever I'm away. Or do, as long as you plan on cleaning up." He paused in the doorway, blocking it so that Sam couldn't exit the room. "Oh, and one last thing. I want you to have another little taste of my blood."

Sam still couldn't think of any reason that the demon wanted him to drink his blood, but he'd have a better chance at figuring out if he was able to wander around on his own, so he decided that it would be easiest to just agree. Azazel grinned, and pulled out a knife to make a small incision in his wrist. Then he held it up to Sam's mouth. Going so far as to actively drink the blood seemed disgusting, but it was what he had to do to survive for now, so he drank the blood. He ended up with a little bit more in his mouth than last time, but at least it still had that strangely sweet taste to it, so he didn't have to worry about puking it all back up onto Azazel's shoes.

Once that was all taken care of, Azazel left the room, and Sam dutifully followed after him. He took the opportunity to study everything he could about the building, and was amazed to see the stone walls that made it look like they were actually walking down the corridors of some ancient castle.

They went down what could only be described as a grand staircase, and eventually walked into a large dining room, with a long table that stretched all the way across the room, and five people sitting together at one end of the table. All of them had empty plates set in front of them, and were busy chattering away. Milo wasn't there, and neither was the man who'd pulled Milo out of Sam's room before Azazel's arrival.

Azazel narrowed his eyes as his gaze swept across the five people. "Where's your exalted leader?"

A woman with a jagged scar running down one cheek stood up, and bowed towards Azazel before speaking. "He said that he had personal business to attend to, Sir." Her eyes flicked over to Sam for a moment before she looked back at the demon. "He said he needed to find the answers to someone else's questions."

Sam wasn't sure what that was about, but Azazel seemed to understand, because he just nodded once. "I see. Make sure one of you lets him know that if he isn't back by the time that it's dark out, I have plans to scatter his entrails across several different state forests."

The woman's eyes widened in fear, but she only bowed her head again instead of doing anything to fight against the demon. "Yes Sir," she murmured.

Then Azazel finally looked back at Sam. "I'm terribly sorry about that. I almost forgot about introductions to all of our little friends here. Scar face is Emmalyne, fatty is Foster, one ear is Matthison, lazy eye is Chip, and the normal looking one is Francois. Just don't ask to see him with his pants down, because you will quickly realize how abnormal it is for any grown male to be so tiny underneath." Then he looked towards the group, none of whom looked even remotely offended by Azazel's descriptions of them. "Group, this is Sam. He is our guest, and is to be treated well, even when I'm not around." Then without another word, he turned and strolled out of the dining room, leaving Sam alone with a group of complete strangers.

The others seemed just as unsure about what to do next as Sam was, which was oddly relieving to find out. Finally, the woman with the scar, Emmalyne? walked over to Sam and nodded towards one of the empty seats at the table. "Please, join us. We were going to begin eating soon. We are in no position to begrudge good company after being cooped up in here for so long."

"Are you guys humans?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Emmalyne seemed almost surprised by the question, and she let out a startled laugh. "Human? Not at all. Though if you're wondering if any of us are like Milo, we're not, so you don't have to worry about being charmed, if that's what you were just thinking. But we're definitely not good or nice, so don't bother mistaking us for such."

Considering the fact that they were aiding in keeping him captive, Sam didn't think he'd have any problem thinking of them as the bad guys. Even if they did seem terrified of Azazel, and he could have used any number of threats against them to get them to work. But if Milo was really the boss of these guys, then that meant they were all being paid to work for the demon, just like Milo was.

Sam sank down into an empty seat at the table, and wondered if he was ever going to find a way out of here. He almost wished that Milo were around at the moment. He wasn't a huge fan of the guy, but Milo did still owe him some information, and he did seem like the least likely one to want to hurt Sam. He bit his lip to hold in the groan that was aching to be let out, and he hoped that his brother would come rescue him soon.

,,,

Even if silver bullets didn't work- which was fine, because despite their wide range of uses, there were plenty of creatures out there unaffected by silver- Dean knew that every monster had a weakness, and that he would find this Milo guy's weakness. Well, he could only do that if he lived long enough to actually get started on any research. He felt like a coward, but he turned to run, because he knew that he was not properly equipped to deal with this at the moment, and he knew that sometimes being smart was better when it meant being able to live and see another battle.

But before he could get very far, he heard Milo call out to him. "Hey, where are you off to in such a hurry? We were just starting to get to know each other. I'd hate to disappoint Sam by telling him that his brother was too much of a wimp to actually face me like a man. I'm sure that I could think of something better to tell him, though. As long as you cooperate."

Dean wasn't sure what he'd been thinking before, but he absolutely knew that he should not have shot this man. It hadn't even done the slightest bit of damage, unlike with most creatures who would at least actually be shot, even if the bullets were basically useless against them. And now the man was talking like a crazy person, in a tone of voice that said he was very used to getting his own way at all times.

He didn't say anything in response to Milo, but for some reason, he decided that maybe it would be best to stick this out and try and learn for himself what was going on. He couldn't claim to be able to take care of Sam if he wasn't even able to take care of himself, right? And it was definitely his job to protect and take care of Sam, which meant that he didn't have any right to be chickening out now.

He turned around to face Milo again, and saw that the smug bastard didn't even look remotely concerned, like he'd known from the start that Dean wouldn't be able to just run away. "What the hell do you want from me, man? You said that you're just here to tell Sam that I'm okay, so then why are you still here when you've clearly already seen that I'm okay?"

Milo shrugged. "Like I said before, life's never that easy. I wasn't lying; I do want to be able to tell Sam that you're okay. It'll make him feel a whole hell of a lot better, and it'll mean that I don't owe him any kind of debt anymore. But that's not all I want. Your brother may be a pretty face, but all of my actions don't revolve around him."

At that last sentence, Dean could feel a knot twisting up in his stomach. He didn't like the idea of this stranger calling his brother a pretty face. He also didn't like the idea of this stranger refusing to tell him about where he might find his brother, even though that was something he was desperate to know at the moment. But he needed to take it easy, and hopefully get through this by remaining calm. Sam needed him, and Dean wasn't going to let him down now. He decided to focus on Milo's words so that he could figure out what was most important at the moment."Why do you owe him anything anyways? Is it because you feel guilty about kidnapping him?"

For some reason, the question seemed to bring a guilty look into Milo's eyes, though it only lasted for a few seconds before it was wiped away as though it had never been there in the first place. "I never feel guilty about doing my job. But your brother and I made a deal, and I don't believe in cheating people out of anything that they already paid for. Believe it or not, but I am an honorable guy. When I give my word, I keep it no matter what."

When he was silent after that, Dean figured that he had permission to ask more questions. "So what is it that you want besides knowledge of my current wellbeing? And if you were doing your job when you took Sam, then who are you working for?"

Milo held his hands up, and had an amused look on his face. There was no trace of there ever having been any guilt there. "Woah there, pal. I can only answer a question at a time. And as for who I work for, I don't feel that that's within my rights to disclose to you at the moment. All I'll say is that he's met your brother before, even if you've never met him. You'll have to figure out the rest about his identity on your own. As for what I want from you, that's something I will have a much easier time trying to explain." He slowly walked over to Dean, though he still held his hands out, like he was trying to prove that he wasn't a threat. But Dean wasn't a complete idiot, and he knew that even without a weapon in his hand, whoever Milo was, he was definitely a threat. "I don't have any loyalties to anyone other than my crew. We go wherever we're hired to go, and we do whatever the latest person signing the paycheck tells us to do. We're free spirits, which means that there's nothing stopping us from taking on more than one job at a time, as long as we're certain that we can completely fulfill every obligation that we accept."

Dean arched one eyebrow. "Is there a point to any of this?"

"I'm getting to it, have a little bit of patience," Milo grumbled. "The point is that the guy who hired me to nab your brother isn't the only guy I'm working for at the moment. I was also given a pretty hefty sum to do something that seems almost shockingly easy." His arm darted forward to snatch one of Dean's wrists, and even Dean's quick reflexes weren't good enough to stop himself from being grabbed. Instead of any of the millions of insidious things Milo could've done with his sudden advantage, he simply shoved a crumpled up piece of paper into Dean's palm, and then offered a grin. "Sorry for the dramatics. I can't help it sometimes. And I wasn't sure that you'd take the damn thing unless I forced you to take it." He let go of Dean's arm and took a couple of steps back, an innocent look on his face as though he hadn't just nearly given Dean a heart attack.

As much as he wanted to yell at Milo for that jerk move, he decided that there were more important things to focus on at the moment. He uncrumpled the paper that he'd been given, and saw a strange shape sketched out. It looked a bit like the sun, with a solid circle surrounded by wavy lines, and a bunch of unfamiliar symbols circling around the inside, and a stylistic pentagram in the center of the circle. "What's this supposed to be?"

Milo shrugged. "I'm just the messenger. I wasn't going to turn down good money just to beg for some kind of explanation. All I know is that some sick looking dude asked me to give you that, and um," he paused as he narrowed his eyes and tried to think about what he'd been told. Personally, Dean didn't think Milo was a very good messenger if he couldn't even recall the message that he'd been hired to deliver. He could've easily just written it onto the paper and avoided this trouble, right? Finally Milo seemed to remember the right words. "He said you need to bear that symbol for protection."

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "So I'm just supposed to wear some unfamiliar mark from some unknown person? Sounds pretty shady to me."

"Whether you do or don't is up to you, I already did what I was paid for." He started towards the door, unbothered by the fact that Dean was blocking the way out, and then paused for a moment when he was just a few steps away from the exit. "It's not really relevant anymore, but the man mentioned that Sam needed to bear the symbol too."

"Why isn't it relevant?" Dean could hear the crinkling noise as he crunched the paper back up in his fist. Everything Milo was saying was only serving to get onto Dean's nerves, and piss him off at the reminder that he had absolutely no idea where his brother was, or what he might be going through at the moment.

Milo shrugged again. "The guy who's got him at the moment seems pretty intent on holding onto him for a while. Hell if I really understand why. But don't worry, he also seems pretty intent on keeping your brother safe. I'm pretty sure that that's why he snatched him up in the first place. As a means of protection."

"Because I'm sure that Sam just feels so safe in the hands of a kidnapper," Dean growled. He just wanted to find Sam and drag him off to some crappy motel somewhere, where it would be just the two of them, and it would be a lot easier for Dean to protect him.

Milo frowned. "He's much safer right now than he's ever been with you or your father, at least as far as I've heard. He's in very powerful hands right now, and since those hands want him alive and unhurt, that's how he's going to stay. I'd love to stick around and give you more answers, but I really need to be getting back before anyone starts missing me. It was nice to meet you, though I don't really get what Sam sees in you." He reached out again, but Dean didn't flinch away this time. "And I'm really sorry about this, but I can't have you following me back." His hand pressed lightly against Dean's head, and a moment later, everything went completely dark.

,,,

The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly, though maybe that was only because literally anything was more interesting than sitting around tied up to a chair in some foreign room. The group, despite their claims to be bad people, didn't seem to mind having Sam hang around with them. And they actually all seemed to have fun as they played the various board games that Emmalyne had dug out of some dusty old closet.

There weren't any televisions or computers around to use as entertainment, but Sam was pretty sure that that had more to do with ensuring that he couldn't contact anybody than it did with trying to keep the bills cheap. Thinking of that made Sam wonder how demons earned money to pay bills. Or did they just possess the people who worked for the power company to check off that bills had been paid even when they hadn't been? Or maybe they possessed really rich people to pay all of their bills in advance?

Sam was interrupted from his clearly very important train of thought by the feeling of the other side of the couch he was occupying sinking down. He glanced over, and saw one of the group, Francois. Francois leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head so that he was resting the back of his head on his hands while looking as laid back as possible. "What're you up to? Foster thinks you're still mad that he threw the monopoly board at you."

Sam snorted. "It's fine. My brother can be a pretty major sore loser sometimes. Though we haven't really played anything like monopoly in a while. No matter what we're doing, though, if it's a competition, then Dean has to win or he will make my life absolutely miserable. What Foster did was nothing in comparison, though someone might want to seriously teach him a thing or two about sportsmanship."

Francois shrugged. "It seems to have been working out pretty well for him so far, so I'm sure that he'd completely agree with me if I said that there's no point in trying to change up a good thing." When Sam slumped down in his seat, saddened by the thoughts of more normal days spent with his brother, Francois scooted a little closer to him, and actually seemed to be worried. "Hey, what did I say? You don't have to look upset. I promise to try and get Foster to be better, but I don't-"

"No, it's not about that. I'm just… I really miss my brother right now. Do you have any idea of when Azazel might be willing to let me go back? I don't know how I'm supposed to make it in this world without Dean by my side. And I don't want to sound like a totally narcissistic asshole, but I'm pretty sure that Dean needs me just as much as I need him. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of convincing me to get back on the road with him." He heaved a large sigh, and then leaned back, with his head tipped to lie against the top of the couch so that he was staring blankly up at the ceiling. "Do you have any siblings?"

Francois hesitated for a moment, as though he'd just been asked a seriously invasive question. Sam would've retracted it, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to care about the sensitive feelings of the group of monsters who had kidnapped him. Though despite their claim to not be humans, Sam hadn't actually seen any of them do anything particularly monstrous, besides aiding a demon in keeping him prisoner here.

After a few minutes of them both sitting there awkwardly, Francois finally seemed to decide that it was the right time to be answering Sam's question. "Yeah, I did. Two little sisters, and they were twins. Not the identical kind, but they were born on the same day so it still counts. But I made some stupid decisions, and it was my fault when they ended up dead."

Sam desperately didn't want to care about the emotional pain of his kidnappers, but something in him reminded him of how much it hurt to lost a sibling, and his hadn't even died first. But he had lost other loved ones to death, and he knew the kind of pain that came with that. He was still reeling from Jessica's death, which had really only been just under two months ago at this point. And even though his dad and Dean had never really seemed to understand it, Sam couldn't help the fact that he cared about other people. "What happened?" he hadn't even planned on asking, but the words seemed just slip out of his mouth before he had the chance to think them through and take them back or edit them into something different.

Francois definitely seemed surprised to hear Sam ask a personal question that showed an interest in his life. But he seemed eager to answer, almost like it was a burden that he'd been holding onto by himself for way too long. "You're probably going to think this is pretty stupid," he began in a rushed voice. "I borrowed money from the wrong people, and I wasn't able to pay back in time. They wanted to scare me into scrounging up the money, or to come up with some alternate way to pay my debts. They chased my sisters' car down the street, but there was an accident, and they ran the girls right off the road. One of them died upon impact, and the other died in the hospital."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath before slowly letting it out. "I'm really sorry for your loss," he whispered. "But how did you end up paying off your debt if you had medical bills to worry about on top of everything else?"

The other man sighed. "I made a deal with a crossroads demon. Normally those guys give you somewhere around ten years from the time of your deal to continue living with your benefits, but I asked for a lot, so the demon did too. I asked for my sisters to both be restored to life, and it took a lot of begging, but then the bastard finally agreed, and gave me four hours to see them again before he came back for my soul."

Sam had never heard of a crossroads demon before, but it definitely sounded like something bad. Could people really trade their souls for whatever the hell they wanted? Did that suggest some kind of organization amongst demons if they came in different types? Could a crossroads demon kill Azazel, or was there an 'honor among demons' kind of code? He had the feeling that if he pried too much, though, Francois would clam up and decide that he wasn't supposed to be telling Sam any of this. "You traded your life for your sisters'. That was noble of you."

Francois snorted. "Nobility doesn't mean shit in hell. Half the people there are wasting their breath screaming about how they didn't deserve to be there, while the other half are reveling in their placement, and are glad to partake in the torture themselves."

After a few seconds of silence, Sam furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about the story he'd just been told. "Wait. If you were only given four hours before your soul would be taken away, how are you here right now? Unless you're just wasting your time instead of spending it with your siblings while you can?"

Francois arched one eyebrow as he stared at Sam, and then he suddenly started laughing very loudly. "Oh man, you really are so stupid. I thought you hunters were supposed to know all about the world of things that aren't human. And I was there when Emmalyne very clearly told you that we're not human. Making a deal for your soul means you get to go straight to hell, and eventually work your way up to being a demon. My sisters died and came back almost a hundred years ago."

Even though he knew that Azazel was a demon, somehow it felt more shocking to learn that someone he'd been playing board games with and chatting with for the past couple of hours was a demon. That meant that another innocent person was being dragged along for the ride against their will. "Why are you helping Azazel? Are all demons working together?"

Francois rolled his eyes. "Way to hide your racism, Sam. No, not all demons work together. In fact, most of us can't stand each other, because most demons are rotten dicks. And I'm not just helping Azazel out of the goodness of my heart like you're making it sound. Didn't Milo already tell you that we were hired by Azazel? Milo is in charge of our group, so when he finds us a suitable job, we take it, no questions asked. We're getting paid a pretty decent amount of money to do this."

The cold reminder that Sam was not just hanging around with some friends felt like ice water washing over him. It's not like he'd just forgotten about the fact that he'd been kidnapped, but it had been way too easy to let himself slip away into a strange fantasy where all was well in the world, and he was just chilling here.

He stood up abruptly. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to head back to my room for the night."

"Need any help finding your way back?"

Sam quickly shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm sure I'll manage just fine." Then he turned and hurried out of the room, not caring if he looked like he was running away. In a house full of demons, didn't he have the right to just run away when he felt like it? It didn't make him a coward, it made him smart enough to know when he was outnumbered. But Sam wasn't just giving up. He was going to find a way out of this place without letting anyone else get hurt, and he was going to find his way back to Dean.

,,,

Dean woke up with a splitting headache, and it felt like he had the worst hangover ever. And for someone who'd had more than his fair share of hangovers in his life, that was really saying something. He groaned as he cautiously cracked his eyes open, and was relieved to find that he'd been kind enough to himself to close all the curtains before passing out.

Then everything that happened suddenly rushed back to him, and he bolted out of bed. He regretted that immediately, though, when the whole world seemed to swirl around him, and he felt like he was going to be sick. That son of a bitch Milo had done this to him, whatever this was.

Clearly the other man was long gone by now, and Dean sank back down onto his bed. He noticed the scrap of paper lying on the little bedside table, and snatched it up. It was the same paper as before with the strange sun-like symbol on it, and he put it back down with an annoyed sigh. He'd have to look it up at some point when he got the chance. For now, he was no closer to finding Sam, but was getting closer to figuring out what was going on in this stupid town.

His headache was only made worse by the shrill noise of his cell phone ringing, and he quickly fumbled to answer it just to make the sound stop. He'd have to pick up some aspirin or something before he could do anything else today. "Hello?"

"Dean? It's Catherine. I thought you said we'd meet up again at nine? I tried calling you a few times, but-"

Dean zoned out for a moment while he glanced over at the clock on the wall, and his eyes widened when he saw that it was already ten-thirty. Whatever Milo had done to him was apparently very efficient at keeping people knocked out. He just hoped that he got some actual rest while he was zonked so that he would be able to make it through the day without falling asleep. "Shit," he muttered. "Sorry about that. I guess I overslept. I'll be there soon, okay? And then we can go check out the shops."

There was a brief pause, and then Catherine asked hesitantly, "Is everything alright? You sound a little out of it. Did Sam go back to the motel?"

Dean groaned at the thought of all the shit that he was dealing with at the moment. "No. But I kinda got confirmation that he was kidnapped, which I guess could be good or bad depending on how you look at it. Anyways, like I said, I'll be there soon." Then he hung up before Cathering could get the chance to ask anything else in that worried tone that reminded Dean too much of the way Sam talked sometimes.

He dragged himself into the shower in the hopes that it would help him feel a little bit more refreshed, though all it really did was make him feel a little bit more soggy. Then he headed out to the Impala, where he knew there should be something for a headache in the glove compartment. He dry swallowed a couple of pills, and hoped that he wouldn't crash while he was driving to Catherine's place.

He made it there in record time, and knocked politely on Catherine's door. It swung open a moment later, and Catherine took one look at him before offering a sympathetic smile and ushering him inside. She got him a glass of water, and then motioned for him to sit down while she poured out a bowl of cereal. "You look like shit. I know you're worried about your- about Sam, but drinking yourself into a coma really isn't going to do him any good."

Dean quickly ate so that he wouldn't have to answer. He wasn't stupid enough to get drunk in the middle of a hunt, especially when he still didn't even know what exactly they were after. Though it really wasn't fair that he had to suffer the consequences of what basically felt like a hellish hangover without even getting the fun of being drunk out of it.

Once he was done, he washed his bowl, and then faced Catherine, who looked dressed and ready to go for the day. "I didn't get drunk. Some bastard who kidnapped Sam showed up in my motel room and talked about a whole bunch of bullshit before knocking me out so that I wouldn't be able to follow him back to where ever it is that Sam's being held. And apparently his knockout methods cause a killer headache. So right now, we just need to focus on figuring out what caused all the suicides. Where are we going first?"

Catherine gave Dean a long scrutinizing look, but then she finally just sighed, and headed for the front door. "The tattoo parlor doesn't open until noon, so for now, we can check out Angelica's. That's a jewelry store in the center of town." They drove there in silence, and then walked in before Catherine could even ask how they were going to get any information.

There was a girl behind the counter, and Dean internally scowled. Usually flirting for information was a tried and true tactic, but he wasn't going to flirt with some kid who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen. He strolled up to the counter and offered a polite smile. He flashed his fake badge before tucking it away. "Hello. I'm Detective Blake Blackmen, and I'm here to ask questions for an investigation that I'm working on. You wouldn't happen to have a list of all your customers from within the past year or so, would you?"

The girl frowned. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that-"

"Camilla," Catherine interrupted the girl. "This is really really important."

The girl's face softened as she apparently noticed Catherine for the first time. "I was really sorry to hear about Sarah," she said quietly. "She was so excited when she bought that ring."

Catherine gulped once, but she didn't break down or start crying. "I can imagine. Look, Camilla, I know you don't know this guy, but I promise that we're trying to do something good here, and we just need your help. Angie would understand, and if she got even the tiniest bit mad, then you have my full permission to blame me entirely for everything. Please just help us if you can, Camilla."

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the girl nodded once. "Fine. But it might be easier if you just tell me what it is specifically what you're looking for if you don't want to be digging through names for the next couple of hours."

Catherine looked at Dean as if to silently let him know that this one was up to him, and he thought about it for a moment. He was here supposedly investigating the suicides anyways, since that's what he'd told all of the witnesses and bereaved, so he didn't think it would matter to mention them here. "I'm sure you've heard about the tragic losses of life around here. We're looking to see if all thirteen of the victims were customers here."

Camilla frowned, and then tilted her head. "Why would they all be connected through this place?" When Dean didn't answer immediately, she just rolled her eyes, and grabbed a blank piece of paper and a pen to hand to Dean. "Write down all their names, and I'll go take a quick look."

Dean quickly scrawled down the names, and then Camilla grabbed the paper and marched off into a back room. While she was gone, Dean glanced at Catherine, who was staring wistfully at a tray of rings inside the glass display case. Most of them seemed to be engagement rings. "So do you come here a lot to know who works here?"

Catherine shook her head. "No. I used to babysit Camilla when she was younger. Her mom and I went to high school together."

Camilla returned before Dean could say anything else, and he couldn't help being surprised by how quick that was. She handed the paper back to Dean, he saw a checkmark next to three names, including Sarah's, but that was it. "We keep really tidy records here, but I guess not everyone likes to buy jewelry before they-" her eyes flicked over to Catherine for a moment before they settled back on Dean. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No, no this is great. Thank you." He tore off the bottom half of the paper with the names so that he could write down his phone number. "If you happen to think of anything else related to the victims, then just give me a call." Then he and Catherine headed out. "Well that was a bust. Anywhere else?"  
Catherine nodded as they got back into her car. "Yeah. There's another place, Snowflake. It's not as high end as Angelica's, but it's still a jewelry store." They got there in a few minutes, and walked inside. "I've never actually been in here before," Catherine told Dean before they walked up to the front counter.

An old man with a pair of glasses resting on his nose and another pair resting on top of his head was seated behind the counter, staring intently at the notebook he was writing in. He looked up when Dean cleared his throat. "Good morning, what can I help you with, young man? I just recently received a whole shipment of watches. You look like the kind of man who could really appreciate a good watch."

Dean blinked a couple of times, and then shook his head. "Sorry, but that's not-"

The old guy turned and looked at Catherine. "And for a lovely woman such as yourself, I have just the perfect necklace to compliment your eyes and make you the belle of the ball."

Dean whipped out his fake badge and slammed it down on the counter a little bit harder than necessary. "Sir, I'm Detective Blake Blackmen, and I'm currently investigating the many suicides that have taken place here in the past few months. Do you know if any of these people purchased anything from your store in the past year or so?" He held out the list of names.

The man seemed annoyed by the fact that he hadn't just gotten two customers, and there was a sulky look on his face as he peered at the paper in Dean's hand. His eyes flicked down the list quickly, and then he shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't know any of those names. Clearly they belong to people with no sense of taste or eyes for fine quality. If they can't recognize the value of the items in my store, then they're probably the sort of scum who buy plastic rings from the pawn shop."

"Pawn shop?"

The man sighed as though being asked a few questions was very strenuous. "Yes. It's just down the street. Presumably the clientele are all the sorts who can't afford the finer things in life."

"Right, well, thank you for your time." He tore off another piece of his paper to write down his phone number again. "If you think of anything else, please let me know." Then he nodded for Catherine to follow him out of the store. "Guess we're checking out the pawn shop." When she didn't say anything, he glanced at her, and noticed the small frown on her face. "What's wrong?"

She shrugged. "I just don't feel so great at the moment. I think I'm going to head to the coffee shop while you check out the pawn shop." Then she turned and hurried down the street on foot. Dean frowned at that, but decided there wasn't anything too strange about it. Catherine was still trying to recover from the loss of someone she loved, and it had to be hard to hear other people so blatantly not care about the fact that so many people were dead. So he decided to walk to the pawn shop, since it was apparently at the end of the street, and he would try and think of something comforting to say to Catherine once they met back up again.

,,,

There was a soft knock on the door to Sam's room, and he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be grateful or not that he was being given the privacy of deciding whether others were allowed into the room. But considering the fact that demons probably wouldn't have any trouble just barging in regardless of what Sam said, he decided that it wasn't really anything more than a politeness to knock. "Come in," he called out.

The door swung open, and when Sam glanced over from where he was lying on the fancy bed, he saw Milo walk into the room with a big grin on his face. "Well hello there, beautiful. I can promise you that it is so refreshing to be able to lay my eyes upon you once more." He took a few steps into the room, then closed the heavy door behind him. "You wanted two pieces of information for two kisses, and I have your second piece so that we will be even."

Sam quickly scrambled to his feet so that he could look Milo in the eyes. "What is it?"

The other man had a smug look on his face. "I have gone out of my way to procure a very important tidbit for you. I know that even though you haven't said anything, you must've been worrying your pretty little head off since you got here, so I am going to officially say something to put you at ease. Your brother is alive and well, and busy working on the case so you don't have to worry about him or anything else." The expression he wore seemed to indicate that he felt he deserved praise for what he'd just said.

Sam scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Seriously? That's it? What a rip off. I knew that Dean was going to be just fine, since you didn't go and kidnap him the way you did me. And it makes a lot of sense that he'd continue on with the case, whether it's because he thinks my disappearance is connected, or because he just can't figure out where to even begin looking for me and still needs something to do. So basically what I'm trying to say here is that the information you gave me is absolutely useless, and shouldn't be counted as part of our deal."

For some reason, Milo looked genuinely annoyed, even though he had to have known that he wasn't actually saying anything Sam would find useful. "But I went through all the trouble of finding him. Can't you at least say thank you?"

Sam said nothing, and waited a few minutes for Milo to get the memo and leave on his own. Once he was gone, Sam flopped back down onto the bed. Milo had actually just given Sam another piece of information without even knowing it. Unless the man had the ability to teleport, he'd had to travel to get back to where Dean was. And he'd only been gone for a few hours as far as Sam knew, but a day at the very most. Which meant that wherever they were, Sam could find his way back to his brother in less than a day if he did figure out a way to get out of here. And that also increased the odds of his brother being able to find him if they were really so close by to the town with the suicides going on in it.

Of course knowing that didn't help much when he had no way of contacting Dean to let him know where he was. And he wasn't even sure of which direction he'd have to head in to get back to Dean. And he couldn't take off and take the risk that Azazel would kill his current host. There was no reason to believe that a demon would have any problem with killing people left and right when it suited them.

It would have been a lot more helpful if Milo had told Sam in advance that he'd be talking to Dean, so that Sam could figure out some kind of message to pass along to his brother. But it was too late to be mad about that now, since it's not like he'd made any kinds of deals with Milo that had to do with delivering messages.

After a few more minutes of just lying around with nothing to do, Sam decided that maybe it would be for the best for him to just suck it up and head back downstairs to where the others were. He didn't really want to hang around with a bunch of demons, but it had to be at least a little bit preferable to doing absolutely nothing, as long as they didn't start acting too mean to him. And maybe he'd be able to actually befriend them enough to convince them to help him. Or there was the other possibility. They were only working for Azazel because they'd been paid to, so maybe Sam could figure out a way to pay them more than Azazel so that they'd let him go, or maybe even escort him back to Dean to provide protection.

But he was getting a little bit ahead of himself at the moment to be thinking about all of that. For now, he just needed to talk to them. And maybe he'd even be able to figure out what Milo was, since he wasn't a demon like the others. Actually, Sam didn't even know for sure that all of the others were demons, he just knew that Azazel and Francois were. There were a lot of monsters that could look human, and even though the thought of six different types of monsters traveling around as mercenaries together seemed strange, Sam was sure that there were stranger things that could happen.

He headed downstairs, and found Milo and Chip in a big room with a cozy fireplace crackling away. They were sitting very close to each other on the couch, and Sam wasn't sure whether he was interrupting anything private or not. But he decided that he didn't care even if he was, so he strolled right into the room and cleared his throat. "Hello."

Milo didn't look like he'd just been interrupted while in the middle of trying to get laid. He looked rather satisfied with himself, actually, as he leaned back against the couch, and stared up at Sam. "Well hello there. I haven't seen you around in ages. What can I possibly do for you, Sam, to make sure that your stay here is as comfortable for you as possible?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "I was just wondering what you are. Emmalyne said that none of you are human, and she also said that the others aren't like you, so I was just wondering what you are."

Milo slowly got to his feet, and Chip quietly got up to slip out of the room while Milo prowled closer to Sam. "Does that mean you wish to know more about me?" he purred.

"I wish to know more about the strengths and weaknesses of the people who are holding me captive."

Milo barked out a laugh. "I suppose I can't blame you for that. Who would want to navigate through all of this without even knowing anything about their enemies? Though I'd like to think that we aren't enemies, Sam." He tilted his head. "Do you want to know why I enjoy your name so much? It's because it's a part of what I am. It's easy to look at you and believe that you are the same as me, because mere humans shouldn't be so striking to look at." He reached out to touch the side of Sam's face, and Sam quickly jerked away before any contact could be made. Milo looked amused by that. "Samodiva. That's what my kind are known as." It must've been obvious from the look on Sam's face that he'd never heard of such a creature before, because Milo let out an amused laugh. "There's a lot that you don't know about the world, darling Sam. One of the greatest lessons you'll probably want to learn is that any mythology about any kind of creature that claims it to be a creature of one gender or the other is probably wrong. How do they think we procreate if there are only women?" He shrugged. "That's why you should never hold too much weight to the stories written by humans, because most of them have absolutely no idea what they're talking about."

"So are you going to tell me anything about what you are besides the name?"

Milo grinned. "I suppose that depends on what you're willing to do for us to be able to get to know each other a little better."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous. I shouldn't have even bothered asking." He turned to walk away, and Milo reached out to grab his wrist. "Dude, what's your problem?"

Milo actually had a slight frown on his face when he spoke again. "I'm sorry about the circumstances of our meeting," he said softly. "I may have just been doing what I was paid to do, but regardless of what anyone says, I don't actually enjoy using my talents on people. It takes all the fun out of a seduction if the other person has no choice but to be seduced." He let go of Sam suddenly, and took a step back. "But the natural method would've never worked on you, since you're already so deeply in love with someone else, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

The look on Milo's face seemed to be an almost sad one, and it was such a strange thing to see from the man who was usually grinning and laughing at everything. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, given half a chance. Anyways, I think you should probably head to bed now for real. I have important things to talk about with my people that you would probably find far too interesting for your own good. And don't forget that if you oppose me or my people, we'll have to report it to Azazel, and he'll punish you appropriately."

Sam gave a resigned sigh, but he nodded and started walking back towards the stairs. He wished that there were a computer nearby so that he could look up what a samodiva was. It probably wasn't the most important thing to know at the moment, but in a situation like this, Sam was desperate to know anything he could about where he was and who had him. The more knowledge he had, the easier it would be to make it out of here unscathed.

,,,

Dean didn't bother calling out when he stepped inside the pawn shop, which according to the sign outside was creatively named 'The Pawn Shop'. He didn't think that anyone would be able to hear him over the heated conversation that was already taking place. "-silver bullets!"

"Does this look like a goddamn ammunition shop to you? I've already given you everything that I've got! You want more then you can make them your own goddamn self! I don't know what kind of action movie you think you're living in the middle of, but I don't know how to make any goddamn bullets!"  
The customer threw something down, which clattered loudly, and then turned to stomp out of the shop, brushing right past Dean. Dean made a quick decision. The shop would still be here later, but the customer would be harder to track down. And anyone in need of silver bullets was someone Dean was interested in learning more about. The man clearly wasn't a professional hunter, or he wouldn't be buying bullets out of a pawn shop, but even so, he was clearly onto something.

Dean quickly exited the store, and hoped that the guy at the desk hadn't already seen him and assumed that he was some kind of weirdo for walking into a store and then walking right back out without even trying to buy or sell anything. The streets weren't particularly crowded, so Dean didn't have too much trouble following the other man. He quickly caught up to him, and reached out to grab the guy's shoulder. "Hey-"

The man whirled around, dislodging Dean's hand and whipping out a gun to point right at Dean's chest. "I wouldn't take a single step closer if I were you, pal. Who the fuck are you?"

If it weren't such a serious situation, Dean would probably laugh at the fact that it was so similar to when he'd returned to his motel room last night and found Milo in there. But instead, he did his best to keep his tone calm and polite, because unlike some people, he didn't want to sound like a smug jackass all the time. "I don't want any trouble. I just want to know why you're so interested in buying silver bullets."

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Before he said anything else, he whipped a knife out of his pocket, and pressed the flat side to Dean's hand. When nothing happened, the man's shoulders slumped down, and he returned his weapons to his pockets. "Sorry. Had to be sure that you're not one of them."

Dean arched one eyebrow, and really hoped that this guy wasn't a total crazy person, because this was probably the closest to a lead that he'd gotten all day. "One of who?"

The man sighed. "Silver bullets, silver knife, silver anything is good for hurting them. It's how you can tell which ones are the evil ones. This town has an infestation, and it's my job to save everyone." He looked around quickly, like he was making sure that no one would be listening in, and then he leaned in closer as he spoke in a whisper. "You probably won't believe me, but we've got werewolves around here."

Dean's first reaction was to immediately reject the idea. There hadn't been any reports of wild animal attacks, or of dead bodies showing up without their hearts inside of them. But he also knew that silver had burned all of the victims, and that after everything he'd seen growing up, it would be pretty irresponsible to assume that anything was entirely impossible. "How do you know they're werewolves?"

"I've seen them transform for myself. It's a lot of them, but I saw it. I was just going out for an early morning coffee run a while back, and I watched as a pack of about twenty wolves strutted into the center of town, and then the next thing I knew, there were twenty naked people saying goodbyes and heading off to their homes."

Dean's shoulders slumped down, and he wasn't sure whether it was frustration or relief. An entire pack of werewolves would've been basically impossible to defeat on his own, but it would've at least meant that he knew something about what was going on. Though it still wouldn't explain the suicides. This man must be crazy though, because werewolves didn't actually turn into real looking wolves. "Sorry, but I don't-"

Apparently the guy wasn't finished speaking yet. "I didn't get a good look at all of their faces, but I did my research. Werewolves are weak to silver. So I bought myself some rings, and shake hands with as many people as possible. The ones who get burned are the ones I go after. I don't have the stomach for killing, but most of them are happy enough to do the job for me."

There was a sick feeling in Dean's stomach as he stared at the man with apprehension. "What are you talking about?"

"Every time I figure out where another one of those wolves are hiding, I go after them. Tell them that I'll hurt their families and tell everyone about what they are if they don't do the job for me. I also ready somewhere that they're real sensitive to the blood of their kind, so I thought spreading it around for them would teach them to stop being freaks."

Dean wasn't sure what to do here. He didn't know if he believed that all the victims were werewolves. They'd been burned upon contact with silver, which usually wasn't enough to cause damage unless it drew blood. And they'd supposedly gone full wolf, which he'd never heard of happening before. He was pretty sure that all the victims had to be some kind of supernatural creature, but did that really justify someone coercing them into killing themselves? He wished that Sam was here, because Sam always knew what to do even in the craziest of situations. Right now Dean just felt kind of lost. Should he let this guy go and continue getting rid of the 'werewolves'? Or did that bring too much risk that innocent people could get hurt? And then thinking of what Catherine had said before, he couldn't help wondering somewhat uncomfortably if the victims were innocent regardless of being monsters. He wished that there was some kind of clear cut answer here so that he wouldn't have to worry so much about what to do.

While he was busy having some kind of existential crisis about whether monsters could ever be considered good or innocent, the killer seemed content to just keep blabbing on about everything, despite the fact that he was talking to a total stranger. "-thought I was going crazy! Who would've thought that a werewolf could ever look like a cute little pomeranian? Just goes to show that you can never be too sure about anyone just based on appearances."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, what did you just say?"

The man seemed jubilant to have an active audience. "I was talking about the werewolves. When I followed him around for a few days, I saw him turn, not even on a full moon, into a little pomeranian puppy looking thing. Looked like something I might keep as a pet if I didn't know that it was a blood thirsty monster the whole time."

Dean ignored the man, and turned to jog back to Catherine's car. When he got there, she was already waiting in the driver's seat, sipping from a cardboard coffee cup. "Hey, that was pretty fast. Did you have any luck this time?"

Dean's mind was already racing ahead to all the research he might have to do. "Are there any animals that you see around your neighborhood sometimes? Probably at times when Sarah isn't home? Some kind of stray, without a collar or anything?"

Catherine shot Dean a wary look before putting her cup down in the cupholder, and crossing her arms over her chest. "Alright, I'll admit it. The reason that I was so sure there was something more to the suicides was because I already knew all about the existence of supernatural things. Not all of them, mind you. I only knew as much as Sarah told me, which really isn't much compared to everything you know about it all. She told me that she didn't want to enter a relationship built on secrets. She called herself a shifter, and said that ever since she was born, she was able to turn into any kind of animal as long as she's seen it before. She said that there were others in town, and that they're a pack, but she never told me their names, since she said that it wasn't her place to share someone else's secrets. What I said before is nothing but the truth, Dean. Just because someone isn't born entirely human doesn't mean that they're a bad person. You have to believe that. Sarah would never hurt anyone."

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Even after I told you about the supernatural world and you knew that I was only trying to help? This is definitely very important to the case!" He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and try to calm down a bit. Yelling wasn't going to get anything figured out. He still wished that Sam were here to help him with all of this. "I've never heard of a shifter before. Not one that can turn into animals, anyways. Do you know anything else about them?"

Catherine shrugged. "They can't touch silver without getting hurt, and they can shift whenever they want. That's all I know, Dean. And knowing that doesn't do anything to stop whatever's behind the suicides."

Dean slumped forward in his seat. "I already know what's caused them. Some amateur who thought that it was his job to rid the town of a werewolf problem. Stay here, Catherine. I'll take care of this." He quickly got out of the car, and began running back in the direction of the killer. He still wasn't sure of entirely how he was supposed to take care of the situation, but he knew that he couldn't just let the man walk free. He saw the dude still walking down the street, and he suddenly darted towards him without any warning.

The man clearly wasn't expecting to be attacked by anyone, and he wasn't able to do anything to stop himself from being tackled to the ground. He squirmed around, but Dean was clearly far better trained than this guy, and didn't have any trouble keeping him pinned to the ground and unable to access his weapons. "What the hell, man? What are you doing? Are you one of them after all? But I touched you with my silver knife."

"You're a sick fuck," Dean growled. "Did you ever actually see any of the so-called werewolves attack anybody?"

The man shook his head. "I didn't have to! They're murderers! They're killers! I know what I'm doing! You have to let me finish my mission!"

Was that what Dean sounded like to Catherine? God, she must think that he's a total nutcase. How many monsters had Dean or his dad, or any other hunter for that matter, killed without actually having proof of it doing anything wrong? He felt like he was going to throw up, but he didn't think that that would solve anything. Though it might be a little satisfying to throw up right on the killer's face, just as a bit of a punishment for the things he'd done.

The only question was about what Dean was supposed to do now. Even using his clout as a fake detective, arresting someone for murder would be unlikely to stick when the official reports had declared all of the victims to be dead from unconnected suicides. And there must not have been any evidence at the crime scenes, beyond the blood from the previous scenes, so there was really nothing to get the man locked up permanently. Killing humans wasn't good, but neither was killing innocent people. Which was the worse crime? If Dean let this guy go, he'd definitely cause even more deaths. And maybe some of the shifters were bad, but according to everyone he'd talked to, they'd been good people. It didn't make any sense, but it had to be the truth that in the end, killing those shifters was wrong. Which meant that killing this murderer had to be the right thing to do.

Dean definitely felt like he was going to puke, but if this was the right thing to do, then it's what he needed to do. He whipped out his gun, and pressed it against the killer's head. The killer started squirming around even more. "Stop! Don't do this! I'm just trying to save people! I'm just trying to do good! I'm doing good! You can't punish me for that!"

"Dean!"

He didn't want to look away from the killer in the middle of almost killing him, but Catherine's voice coming from nearby sounded urgent, and he glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he gritted out.

She knelt down next to him, though stayed just far enough away from the killer so that she wasn't at risk of getting hit by any flailing limbs. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm pretty sure that splattering someone's brains across a public street isn't going to end well for you. It'll be a lot harder to find your brother if you have to go on the run from the law."

Dean scowled, but he knew that Catherine was right. And he couldn't help the part of him that felt relieved at the thought that he wouldn't have to kill this man, at least not yet. It was strange, because he'd never had any problems killing monsters in the past, and what this guy was doing definitely qualified him as monstrous.

He got up and dragged the killer up to his feet as well. He quickly dug around in his pockets to snatch the gun and knife, and slipped them into his own pockets. "Alright, you're coming with me." He forcibly led the man back to Catherine's car. When they were right next to it, he slammed his own gun against the killer's head to knock him out, and then shoved him into the trunk.

Catherine watched all of that go down with wide eyes, and then she slid into the driver's seat. "So where are we going?" Her voice sounded a little unsteady, but Dean couldn't blame her. Even if she'd already known that there were some kind of supernatural things out there, everything else that had happened lately had to be stacking up in her mind as one bad thing after the other.  
"The motel," he muttered. "And don't bother asking me what we're going to do when we get there, because I have absolutely no idea yet." Then he clicked his seat belt down, and stared out the window, hoping that an answer would come to him so that he would know how he was supposed to deal with everything that was going on.

,,,

"Milo, can I talk to you?" Sam had patiently waited up in his room for as long as he could until his stomach started growling, and then he'd gone back downstairs. No one had been in the middle of any important meetings as far as he could tell, so he was pretty sure that he hadn't done anything disobedient.

Milo looked up from the book that he'd been reading, and he arched one eyebrow. "Why of course you can, beautiful. I'd have to be a fool to turn down the opportunity to hear your angelic voice as often as possible."

Sam sat down next to Milo, doing his best to ignore the blatant flirting. It was annoying, though whether it was because Milo had kidnapped him in the first place or just because he didn't like the guy, it was hard to say for sure. "Alright, I'm just going to get straight to the point here. How much is Azazel paying you to be a part of all of this?"

Milo blinked a few times, clearly having been surprised by the question, before he carefully folded down the corner of the page he was on, and then set his book aside in order to give Sam his full attention. "Why would you ask me that?"

Sam took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. "Because I want to offer you more. Whatever it is that Azazel's giving you, I'll double it. Triple it if I have to. You don't like Azazel, or your scared of him, or whatever. So if there's a better offer on the table, then there's no reason for you to keep working for him, right? And if he did aleady pay you, then you can just return whatever he gave you so that he won't get too mad, right?"

Milo sighed, and shook his head. "You're far too naive about this world, Sam. About the monsters living in it. And I don't think you understand what it would even mean to double his offer. Sure, my crew got some money, because cold hard cash has never been a bad thing to have more of. But Azazel offered me a more exclusive deal, and it's something that I really want. Something that I can only have if you stay here."

"What is it?" Sam could think of a few things that only a demon would be able to provide, and none of them were anything good.

Milo reached out to take both of Sam's hands in his own, and Sam allowed it, because he knew thatt cooperation would be what was most likely to get him out of this alive. "He offered me a mate. My kind are very rare these days, and finding our other half is so very impossible it seems. And the mate he offered me…" he trailed off as he squeezed Sam's hands tighter. "I don't want you against your will, of course. But the longer you're around me, the more I'm sure to grow on you. And even if it takes a thousand years, at least I'd get to look at you and hear you in all the time in between. I wasn't sure quite what to expect when Azazel first made me the offer, because he neglected to mention how breathtaking you are."

Sam yanked his hands away. "What the hell? But I'm not a Samodiva. I'm just a human. I can't be your, your mate."

"I know you already love someone else, far more than you could ever love me. But I think if you just gave it a chance-"

Sam shook his head, and jumped to his feet. "You're not listening to me. There's nothing about us that makes us compatible. And if Azazel is so desperate to keep me here for my own protection, or whatever, then why would he offer me up to you?"  
"Because he knows that my kind are very protective of our mates. Whether we're together or not, I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy."

It seemed like the logical thing to do at that point would be to run away screaming. But instead Sam took a few seconds to actually think, and then he sat back down so that he could look Milo in the eye. "Then I can't possibly be your mate, because keeping me here is making me the exact opposite of happy. I don't want to be here. I want to be with my brother, out on the road, hunting monsters and saving people. He'll keep me plenty safe for Azazel's plans. He's always watched out for me better than anyone else."

Milo frowned, and looked down at his knees so that he wasn't meeting Sam's eyes. "I just want… I just want to not be alone."

Sam thought that it would probably be counterproductive to point out the fact that Milo could apparently just easily entrance and kidnap people whenever he felt like it if he started to feel too lonely. "Well I'm not consenting to keep you company here. It's not going to work out between us, no matter what you might want. I just want to go home. You said you'd take me home, right? Well home for me is Dean. That's it. Nowhere else in the entire world is home if it doesn't have Dean there too. Please just take me home." Milo said nothing, and Sam took a deep breath before scooting a little closer. "What if I give you another kiss?"

Milo's head jerked up at that. "Why would you-?" then he sighed. "You'd only kiss me if you thought that it would get you something in exchange. I'm basically forcing you to prostitute yourself to me, aren't I?" He seemed to be more thinking out loud than actually talking to Sam, so he didn't say anything in response. After several long seconds, Milo let out a loud exhale. "I do want you to be happy." He admitted. "Are you sure that you can't be happy without your brother?"

Sam nodded firmly. "I'm positive."

There was another long pause, and then Milo stood up, motioning for Sam to stand as well. "I never claimed to be a good man. But I do want you to be safe and happy. Two kisses, and I'll bring you back to Dean." That sure as hell seemed like a better deal than anything he'd been prepared to offer. Then Milo added, "And one million dollars in cash for my crew, since we'll have to hit the road before Azazel can pay us more. That's me being generous." Sam had no idea how to get that much money short of robbing a bank or something, and he really didn't want to do that just for his own life, which wasn't even endangered at the moment anyways. Milo snorted. "God, the look on your face. I'm kidding. I don't know what you were expecting when you offered to double Azazel's offer in the first place, since you don't actually have money."

Milo leaned forward, apparntly accepting Sam's lack of argument to be the same as agreement, but Sam reached out to gently press against Milo's chest to hold him back. "Three kisses and you make sure that Azazel doesn't hurt his host before you leave."

Milo snorted. "I may want you to be happy, but I'm not suicidal. Sorry, but I can't agree to that. Two kisses for your freedom is the best you're going to get. And that's already a pretty great bargain."

Could Sam just leave knowing that an innocent person would be killed due to his actions? No, he couldn't. That was the whole reason he hadn't just made a break for the front door in the first place. "I can't take the risk that an innocent person will die for something that they don't even understand. Something that I don't even understand."

There was a conflicted look on Milo's face, and then he let out an overly dramatic sigh. "Fine. But it has to be something better than a few kisses if I'm going to risk my life talking down Yellow-Eyes, as you called him." He reached out to run a hand through Sam's hair. "A lock of your hair and three kises. With tongue."

One of Sam's eyes twitched at the grossness of bargaining away his mouth in exchange for freedom, but he knew that it was still probably the best he was going to get. "Fine."

The look on Milo's face seemed to somehow out shine any of the happiness that Sam had seen there yet. "I knew you could be a reasonable man."

Sam tried to think about something else throughout the duration of their very long kisses, and he couldn't help thinking of Dean. Was he really okay? Milo said that he was, but anything else could've happened during the day to change that. And Dean had to be freaking out over the fact that Sam had been kidnapped in the first place. He wondered if Dean would be mad to find out that Sam had kissed his way to freedom. It wasn't any worse than anything that Dean had done before, but even so.

Finally it was over, and then Milo pulled out a knife to cut off a chunk of Sam's hair. He pulled one strange loose to wrap as a bow around the rest, and then stuck it into his pocket as though it were perfectly normal to ask for a bit of someone's hair as a keepsake. "Alright, let's bounce this joint then. Though it's probably best if I knock you out, so at least I don't get killed for letting you lead your brother and whatever other hunters right here to storm the place. I think he likes it here. It is pretty nice for a human residence."

Even though he knew that it would leave behind a horrible headache, at this point Sam was willing to agree to just about anything if it meant that he'd finally be able to get out of here, and get back to Dean. It had only been a couple of days, but he already missed his brother immensely. How had he managed to stay apart from him for years? He felt foolish for ever leaving Dean behind just for something as stupid as going off to college.

He nodded once, and Milo reachd out to touch his head, a fond look on his face. "I'm going to miss you, you know. More than you could ever really know. You have to promise that you'll let me see you again someday. Maybe when Azazel's finally ready to collect all of his children we'll see each other. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Then everything went black.

,,,

It took surprisingly little effort to drag the killer into his motel room, and tie him up to the headboard of one of the beds. Once he was finished, he stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, while Catherine sat down on the edge of the other bed. "So what's your name? What's your story?"

The man scowled. "Thomas. Not that it matters if you're just going to kill me anyways. I don't get what your problem is. I'm doing the world a favor by getting rid of vermin! I already told you, this town is infested by werewolves, and we need to do something about it! I need to do something about it! I could be a hero if you would just let me! I can do this! I know that I can!"  
Before Dean could respond, Catherine stood up and walked over so that she was standing next to Dean, though she put her hands on her hips, and ended up nudging him away with her elbow. "My fiance, Sarah Lecky, was one of the best people I've ever met before in my life. She's never hurt anybody, and she's never used her natural talents to commit any kind of crimes. And she would never spend her time around other people who are criminals and murderers. I don't know who you're thinking of, but it can't be the ones whose deaths you are responsible for. Can you even begin to understand why what you did was so wrong?"

The man- Thomas- didn't lessen his scowl at all. "You knew that she was one of the wolves, and you just let her into your house? Into your bed? What the hell is wrong with you? I was doing this whole town a favor! I was saving people like you, who are stupid enough to let the monsters walk right into their homes, and end up getting mauled to death!"  
"Sarah and I have been together for more time than a lot of the normal couples I know, and she has never once made any indication that she wanted to kill me, or harm me in any way whatsoever. She was a good person, and now she's dead because of you! Even if it was suicide, it wasn't her choice to do it. You've killed so many good, innocent people."

Thomas adamently shook his head. "You don't understand. They aren't good people! They aren't even people at all!"  
Dean would've stopped her if he had the chance, but Catherine moved too quickly as she lunged forward to slap Thomas across the face. "You are despicable! How dare you decide that you have any right to decide who's good enough and bad enough to stay alive! You had no right! You had no right!" She sank down to kneel on the bed near Thomas' feet, and there were tears rolling down her face. "We were going to get married. We were always so happy together, and we were going to get married. And even though we're already so old, we were talking about adopting children to liven up our home a little. We would've had a perfect family. You had no right to take that away from me." Her voice broke a few times as she began crying. "We were so disgustingly in love even after all that time, and we were going to be married."

That's when Dean stepped forward to gently put his hands on Catherine's shoulders, and guide her away from Thomas. She stood up and turned around, tucking her head down so that she was pressing it against Dean's shoulder. He didn't care about the fact that she got tears all over his shirt. He was amazed that she'd made it this long throughout the investigation without breaking down, and he wasn't going to take away her opportunity to do so now.

When she finally calmed down a bit, she stepped away, and reached up to rub at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get like that. I'm just going to…" she trailed off and headed into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

Dean decided that it would be best to just give her her space for now, and he turned back to look at Thomas. The man's eyes were wide as though he'd just been surprised by something. "How could she be so upset over the death of a monster?"

Dean sighed, and shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that maybe I never really knew much of anything. I've gone my whole life being told that all monsters are evil and that they need to be killed in order to save other people. I never even stopped for a moment to wonder if maybe I'd been misinformed, and maybe I wasn't supposed to be causing all of that harm. I don't even want to think about how many innocent people I-"

Before he could finish that thought, there was a loud knock on the door. He swore under his breath, not sure of how he could hide away the clearly bound up man. He opened his mouth to shout for them to go away, when he heard a smug sounding voice through the thin door. "Hey Dean! I think I have something of yours!"  
Dean scrambled over to peer out the window, drawing the curtains aside just enough to see who was talking. His eyes widened when he saw that Milo was standing there, holding Sam in his arms bridal style. He checked to make sure he still had his gun, despite how little good it had done before it still made him feel better to have, and then he unlocked the door and yanked it open. "Sammy," he breathed out. He was afraid that he'd never see his brother again, and he was amazed to have had his fears proven wrong. He reached out to take him, but Milo took a small step back. "What are you doing? Give me my brother back."  
Milo sighed. "Yeah, I know, sorry. I'll just put him down on one of the beds."

"You'll give him to me," Dean growled. "Now." Then he held out his arms and gave Milo one of his best glares.

For some reason, Milo looked hesitant to hand Sam over, but then he finally transferred him into Dean's waiting arms. "He's perfectly alright, and he should wake up within an hour or so. You should know that he got free on his own, and didn't need to be rescued by anybody. Just- just take care of him, okay?"

Of course Dean was going to take care of Sam. He probably wasn't going to let the kid out of his sight again for a very long time, because he just knew that every time he turned around, he was going to be afraid that Sam would be gone again. "I would never let anything happen to him."

"You mean like the way you totally didn't let him get kidnapped?"

Dean scowled, and wanted to have some witty comeback, but he also had to acknowledge that whatever reasons Milo had for kidnapping his brother in the first place, at least he'd returned him to where he belonged, seemingly unharmed. Though if Sam woke up with stories about any abuse or torture that had happened, Dean would definitely be hunting Milo down. Silver bullets might do nothing to the man, but Dean was sure he'd be able to figure out what could hurt him. "Thanks for bringing him back," he said gruffly.

Milo shrugged. "Like I said, that was all on him." He reached out to lightly brush his hand against Sam's cheek, and then he dropped his arm back by his side. "Stay safe, Dean Winchester. Your world is a whole lot bigger than you've ever seen before." Then he turned and walked away, gently closing the motel door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Dean carefully walked over to the open bed, and put Sammy down onto it. He pulled the top blanket free, and gently draped it over his brother, and then he just sat there next to him and stared for a while. Sam looked so perfect lying there, and Dean hated himself for letting him be taken away in the first place.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard the bathroom door swing open, and Catherine walked over to Dean. "What're you-" she cut herself off when she saw the figure lying on the bed. "Is that Sam?"

Dean nodded once. "Yeah. I must be the luckiest son of a bitch there is to have gotten him back like this. I was so afraid that we'd wrap up this case, and I still wouldn't have any idea of where to start looking for him, and-"

"Dean?" At the sound of his name, he looked back over his shoulder at Catherine, and arched one eyebrow. "Do you love him?" What kind of question was that? Of course Dean loved Sam. They were brothers, practically soul mates honestly, and he'd been taking care of the kid for as long as he could remember. Catherine must've been able to see what Dean was thinking, because she smile lightly and shook her head. "I don't mean as a brother. I meant a different kind of love. When you first told me about Sam, you had the same look on your face that Sarah always had when she looked at me. It's a look that never went away in the entire time we were together. It's the look she had when she proposed. And then when you said that you're brothers, I thought that maybe I'd gotten it wrong, but now I'm not so sure that I did."

Dean frowned, and turned back to look at Sam's peaceful face, unable to meet Catherine's eyes. "He's everything to me. I love him, and I'd do anything for him. Anything at all. But that doesn't mean- I don't- we're brothers. I can't-"

Catherine moved to crouch down next to where Dean was sitting. "It's okay. You two don't live the same way that most people do. And you said you're always using fake identities, and there can't be very many people who know that you're related. So why can't you just be happy?"

"He doesn't- he wouldn't- he can't-" Dean wasn't even sure how to put his thoughts into words that would actually make sense. He'd always loved Sammy more than anything else in the entire world. When Sam had gone off to Stanford, Dean had felt like he was dying, and he would always hate himself for choosing to not go with his brother. Sam was perfect, and yeah, Dean would have to be blind to not see how attractive Sam was. But they were brothers, and he'd never allowed himself to think about-

"Dean?" This time it wasn't Catherine speaking, but instead Sammy.

That immediately brought Dean's attention completely back on his brother. "Sammy? I'm right here. You're okay, we're in the motel room, and I figured out who was hurting people, and you're safe, and you're okay."

Sam sat up, and let out a soft groan. "Stupid headache," he muttered. Then he looked around the room, carefully taking in the sight of the tied up man, and the unknown woman. She got up to take a few steps away in order to give Sam and Dean some time with some semi-privacy. His eyes settled back on Dean, since he was the most familiar person in the room. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you again. I knew that I had to get away so that I could come back to you." Then he furrowed his eyebrows. "But what exactly did I come back to? What's going on in here?"

Dean laughed at the adorable puzzled look on his brother's face, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean forward and pull Sam into a tight hug. It lasted a few seconds longer than necessary, but since Sam didn't try to pull away, Dean figured that it was okay. When he finally leaned back, he smiled. "This case has made me realize a few things that you tried to convince me of a very long time ago. The suicide victims were all something called shifters. Apparently they can take on any animal form. This nut job saw them and thought they were werewolves, so he basically forced them to kill themselves even though they were innocent."

Sam arched one eyebrow. "You actually believe that monsters can be innocent?"

Dean sighed, but then nodded once. "I just don't know what to do with the guy now. He's only going to hurt more of them if I let him go, but I don't have any evidence that would be useful in an arrest."

"This guy has a name you know," Thomas chimed in, sounding vaguely irritated. "And no matter what you do, you're not going to be able to stop me from-"

There was a loud bang, and Thomas was completely silent as he slumped back, a small hole in the center of his head bleeding sluggishly. Catherine was standing at the foot of the bed, clutching Thomas' confiscated gun. She dropped it, and it bounced lightly on the bed. "You heard him. He said that he's never going to stop, and you said that you have no way of letting the law take justice on him. He killed Sarah, and twelve other people who didn't deserve to die, and he was only going to kill more and more of them." She looked at Dean pleadingly. "You know that this is what had to be done. You were going to kill him right out on the street if I hadn't stopped you, so you know that this is the right thing to do."

Dean sighed, and he couldn't help the unpleasant feeling that rose up through him. This certainly wasn't how he'd seen things ending. He didn't want to leave Sammy so soon after getting him back, but he got up to walk over to Catherine and pull her into a hug. "It's okay. You're right, this was the only thing to be done. And it was quick and humane, even though no one would've been able to blame you if you wanted a long and bloody revenge. Just give me a minute, and I'll help you clean up-"

Catherine shook her head, and gently pushed Dean away. "We're not going to try and hide this. I don't know anything about this man, but he might have family and friends who care about him, and they would never know what happened. And even if no one believes me, at least I can try to explain to the authorities that he was responsible for those thirteen deaths. I'm going to take responsibility for my own actions, Dean. I have to. Will you?"

"What are you-?" Catherine's eyes flicked over to Sam, and then she raised one eyebrow as she gave Dean a knowing look. He sighed. "We'll see."

Catherine nodded. "That's probably the most I can expect from you. You two should grab all of your stuff and get out of here before I call the police. You don't need to be dragged into any more of a mess than you're already in."

Sam seemed rather confused about what was going on, and Dean was sympathetic about how much worse the sound of a gunshot must've made Sam's headache. He quickly grabbed the two duffel bags, and then motioned for Sam to follow him outside. Sam must've been feeling pretty crappy, because he followed Dean to the Impala without a single argument or question.

Once Sam was buckled into the front passenger seat, Dean ran back inside the room. Catherine was pulling out her phone, and Dean cleared his throat. "If you need anything at all, including but not limited to jailbreak, just call me, okay?"

She smiled, though there was a strain to it, and she her hands were shaking as she clutched her phone tightly. "Thank you, Dean. I probably wouldn't have ever gotten justice for Sarah if it weren't for you. You're a good person, and I just know that you're going to continue helping so many people in the future. And don't forget to talk to your brother." She walked over to him to give him a quick hug before backing away. "I doubt I'll be going anywhere for a while, so don't feel afraid to come and visit."

Dean nodded, and then headed back outside to the car. He got in and quickly drove them away, not wanting to be anywhere nearby by the time the police showed up. He drove for a while, until long after they'd gotten out of town, and then he pulled over onto the side of the road. He turned to face his brother. "You've been really quiet. What's going on?"

Sam fidgeted with his hands on his lap, and didn't look up to meet Dean's eyes. "Did Milo tell you why he brought me back?" Dean shook his head, and Sam cleared his throat. "We made a deal. A couple of kisses in exchange for him getting me away from there."

Dean tried to ignore the strange clenching in his stomach that followed the confession. He had to try and be a good and understanding brother. "You did what you had to in order to get away safely, right?"

Sam frowned, and then slowly looked up at Dean. "Yeah. But something happened when we kissed." Dean braced himself to hear about how Sam had fallen madly in love with his abductor, and wanted to go back to the man. So he was surprised when Sam actually continued. "The entire time that I was kissing him, all I could think about was you." Then he flinched away, like he was afraid that Dean would actually hit him in response to his words.

"What does that even mean, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged, and he looked rather miserable. "I don't know. It's just what happened. I think there's something wrong with me, Dean. Maybe it's just because I've never kissed another man before, but for me to think of you is so inappropriate, and I wouldn't blame you if you just-"

Dean didn't think he could stand for a single second more of Sam's self conscious, self deprecating thoughts. He scooted over and gave Sam a kiss before he could chicken out of it. He immediately pulled back, waiting to know whether Sam would slap him and storm off or not. He was pleasantly surprised, when Sam grabbed him and pulled him back in for another kiss.

After a few minutes, they had to pull away from each other and pant for breath. Dean smiled despite himself. "No chick flick moments or anything, but I wouldn't say no to getting laid right now."

"Dean," Sam laughed, taking away any of the admonishment that he'd tried injecting into his voice. After he calmed down, he looked over at Dean carefully. "I love you."

There was a pause, and then Dean looked at Sam, and he knew that he could never disappoint those puppy dog eyes. And there was no point in trying to pretend like it wasn't true that he felt the same way. "I love you too. Now shut up and pick some music. And don't pick anything crappy. My ears are still ringing from what we listened to on the way into town."

Then they got back onto the road and kept driving, both singing along to Sam's 'crappy' music, grateful to be together again, and ready to explore all the new aspects of their love for each other.

 **A/N- Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I'm never sure how to finish these things**


End file.
